


Lords of Autumn

by Aanaya, WhimsicalRealist



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Animal Sacrifice, Armitage Hux is a Jerk, Blow Jobs, Drama, I'm just saying, Knotting, Kylux - Freeform, M/M, Multi, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Other, Ren should not be so trusting, Witches, always get your deals in writing, eventually there's a dragon, everyone has a secret and it's ridiculous, now containing porn with plot, rituals and nudity abound, tags will update with future chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-11
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2018-10-30 14:34:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 51,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10878816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aanaya/pseuds/Aanaya, https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhimsicalRealist/pseuds/WhimsicalRealist
Summary: A sly witch lays a trap, hoping for a unicorn, but instead captures a creature that claims he can deliver him a far greater prize.Nothing is quite what it seems, nor is anyone quite who they claim to be, but that is just the way of the wood.Neither trusts the other, nor should they, but despite their best attempts at trickery, they will soon find their lives tangled inseparably together.





	1. Silver and Cold Iron

Soggy leaves shuffled themselves away from polished leather boots and the hem of a grey cloak that both remained untarnished by the damp earth they moved across as easily as if the forest floor were instead paved in stone. A storm grumbled far off on the horizon, barely visible over the crown of trees and soon it would be completely lost on the other side of the mountains after having spent most of its energy on the valley several hours ago. Despite its passing, it left the area with a fresh charge, the vacant, gnarled branches glistening with raindrops that continued to drip as the figure passed beneath them, untouched.

There was no discernible path, yet the figure walked along with a practiced ease that spoke of previous visits to this particular part of the forest. It wasn’t until the trees began to thin and a clearing lay just ahead that they even gave pause, head tilting back to catch a scent on the breeze. Beneath the pungent petrichor and bouquet of damp leaves, another note had risen and it left the figure scrunching their nose in disgust as they stepped out into the open and saw the source.

Laying in a heap beside an iron trap was the fresh corpse of a unicorn, its white coat smeared with shimmering silver blood that gave off a faintly sweet scent with an undertone of oxidation as it met the open air from the wound in its side. It was only after observing this unfortunate situation that the figure finally turned to address the second creature present, the one with its leg caught in the trap intended for the unicorn that it had apparently intended to make a meal of.

 

“I have been baiting this unicorn for months… _months_ ,” the figure grumbled sourly, pulling back their hood to reveal himself as a scowling, ginger-haired man. “And instead, I caught _you_.”

 

Glowering up at him, the creature was one of the various half-humans known to inhabit the forest. Without a scrap of clothing, the creature was at least covered in thick patches of a black fur that almost looked like feathers in some areas, primarily featured on his shoulders, waist, forearms, and the lower portions of digigrade legs that ended in clawed toes. The hands were mostly human as well, though the nails were long and black, still wet from the unicorn’s wound as were his lips that were pulled back from a snarl of warning. A long, chord-like tail lashed against the grass like a perturbed cat’s, the tufted end a tangled mess from the rain to match the wild mane of hair atop his head. Even his long, pointed ears were pinned backward, giving the man the distinct impression that this creature was more feline than human at the moment. But these features at least allowed him to identify what he had captured: a Wildling.

 

“Take it, then,” the Wildling hissed, narrowing expressive brown eyes up at the human.

“It’s of little use to me now that you’ve let it bleed out all over the clearing, Wildling,” he retorted, arms linking behind his back as he somehow managed to look equal parts disgusted and bored. “I can still take the meat, the bones, and the horn, but most of the hide is ruined and I originally needed it for its blood.”

 

Blinking up at him, the Wildling looked confused for a long moment. For him, a unicorn was a considerable source of food, their meat well-known to help with various ailments and the marrow in their bones could mend minor wounds if you applied it directly, but this human was fixated on the blood alone. To his knowledge, only other creatures ate unicorns, while humans hunted the more simple beasts for their own needs…in fact, he was certain that unicorn blood was _toxic_ to them, so why would—-

 

“ _Witch_ ,” he spat with a renewed snarl, skin crawling in his realization as the man above him gave a satisfied smirk.

“So the Wildling _does_ have a brain after all,” the witch teased, eyes crinkling in his amusement. “Fascinating. Perhaps this isn’t a complete waste after all, there might be use for your parts, instead.”

“I am not parts! I’ll rip your head from your shoulders, witch!”

“From where you are, I highly doubt that. In fact, my trap all but ensures my safety,” the witch explained, gesturing to the contraption that had clamped itself onto the Wildling’s leg. “Cold iron, reinforced with runes. It’s strong enough to incapacitate a dragon, if one were stupid enough to step right into it like you have. But unfortunately for you, you’re one of the sorts of creatures that is drastically weakened by iron, so any idea you have of prying it off to make good on that threat is laughable at best. So, Wildling, that leaves me to decide what to do with you now…any suggestions?”

“Ren,” the Wildling supplied, not showing any sign of fear in his posture, but his eyes did betray his unease.

“Pardon?”

“My name. It’s Ren. Stop calling me ‘Wildling’.”

“That _is_ what you are, however. I don’t generally refer to my ingredients by their chosen name. Why should you be any different to me than the unicorn beside you?”

 

Tail lashing against the ground with a few wet thumps, Ren grit his teeth as he thought carefully about his options. Obviously he wasn’t going to get out of the trap on his own, already feeling considerably exhausted just from sitting with it on his leg and he didn’t know the first thing about undoing runes, anyway. So he would have to offer the witch something more valuable than the unicorn he had deprived him of and the possible parts he could utilize from a Wildling.

 

“You’re using traps to hunt, so you don’t get your hands dirty,” Ren began, earning a scowl from the witch. “It just means your magic is your strength, not physical. But there’s a creature in the forest you won’t catch with traps that would be of much greater value than this common unicorn or even myself.”

“Go on, I’m listening,” the witch hummed, a brow raised but otherwise his expression remained neutral.

“The Prince of the Forest,” Ren continued, hopeful that his offering would be enough. “A massive stag nearly as old as the oldest tree, swift of hoof and flowers bloom wherever he treads. Surely such a creature would be priceless to a witch, and more than enough to buy my freedom from your trap and ingredient hoard.”

“You’re claiming you can bring me the Prince,” the witch repeated, struggling to repress his curiosity and a streak of excitement. “He’s regarded as the god of this forest, the humans in this region all but worship the idea of him, but you, a simple Wildling, are able to not only track him down, but successfully _kill_ him? I don’t believe you.”

“Fine. Don’t. But I’m the only one who can,” Ren shrugged. “Without me, it’s a prize you’ll never have.”

“And I should just trust you at your word that you can hunt such an elusive creature? Why haven’t you already done so and claimed his crown for yourself?”  
“I’ve no need or desire for it. Well, not until _now_ , when his death buys my life from your hands.”

 

Pacing away from Ren, the witch began to think the offer over carefully, leaving the Wildling to relax momentarily with the knowledge that he might just get out of this intact. While the loss of a crucial ingredient from the unicorn had been highly disappointing, claiming the crown from the Prince was a critical stepping stone for moving up in the world. It was a clever move for the trapped creature, that was certain, and he could appreciate that, but he wasn’t about to simply turn him loose on his word that he would make good on the promise.

 

“A few conditions must be met before I consider this any further,” he finally concluded, turning back to face Ren with a smirk that in no way comforted the Wildling.

“Which are?”

“Firstly, I will need to place a tracking rune on you, so that I know you haven’t tried to escape the region altogether once I set you loose,” the witch began.

“Fair enough, I wouldn’t trust you, either,” Ren snorted. “What else?”

“Along the same vein of not trusting you even remotely, I will place a tranquility curse on you before I remove the trap.”

“Curse?” Ren growled, knowing the term never meant anything good.

  
“Just a term for a spell that affects someone against their will in a way they might perceive as negative, don’t get so uptight," the witch drawled. "What the tranquility does is instill a sense of calm in you that will only be triggered when you are near to me. That way I don’t get mauled the second you get your feet back under you, which I am sure you were at least considering.”

“It’s like you can read my mind,” Ren grumbled, glaring at the witch. “ _Fine_ , do your stupid tricks so I can leave. The sooner I’m done with all of this and _you_ , the better.”

 

Chuckling, the witch couldn’t help but to grin as he stepped toward the Wildling, pulling the glove off of one hand before offering it down toward Ren as if to help him up. Hesitantly, he reached up to take it, but stopped short with a suspicious pause.

 

“You _will_ undo all this after I bring you the Prince, right?” he asked. “I don’t want you keeping tabs on me forever, after all, or making it easy for you to hunt me if you felt like being a total pissant.”

“Yes, yes, of course, I’ll undo the curse once you bring me the Prince,” the witch sighed impatiently, giving a grabbing gesture with his hand. “Let’s get this over with, I have other affairs to attend to today, if you don’t mind.”

 

Huffing, Ren snatched hold of the witch’s hand, intending to use it to help himself up with but was rendered immobile by the contact as foreign magic coiled itself into his body. First and foremost, a warmth bloomed in the center of his chest as if a single ray of summer sunlight shone against it, the sensation flowing upward until it began to cause his mind to slip into an unnaturally calm state. Once this had effectively taken hold, the witch pushed the spell to inscribe his rune into the skin at the base of the Wildling’s neck, the orange symbol pulsing in time with the beat of Ren’s heart.

Work complete, the magic receded through the creature’s leg where it snapped the trap open, leaving his ankle rubbed a bit raw and bruised, but without even a fracture to the bone. Unsteadily, Ren rose to his feet and let go of the witch’s hand, blinking at him in drowsy confusion; whereas moments ago he wanted nothing more than to run away or rip the smirking man’s face from his skull, now he had no inkling to leave or so much as raise a finger against him.

 

“I feel…drunk?” Ren finally managed.

“You’ll feel yourself again when you aren’t close to me,” the witch assured him with a snort. “Best I get going before I change my mind.”

“You didn’t tell me your name.”

“Should I have?”

“I don’t know, but I want it.”

“Names are a dangerous thing, Ren. I imagine you didn’t even give me your true one.”

“No,” the Wildling admitted uncomfortably. The witch was right: if someone knew your true name, they held a substantial amount of power over you.

“Well, in the interest of you not calling me ‘ _witch_ ’ with such disgust every time you utter the word, you can call me Hux,” the other supplied with a nod. “There, now we’re acquainted. Bring me the Prince before Spring, Ren, if you can manage it.”

“What about the unicorn?” he asked, glancing down at the creature that had gotten him into much more trouble than he could have counted on.

“As I said, I mostly wanted its blood. Leave whatever you don’t need for yourself here and I will collect it later,” Hux instructed rather dismissively. “No sense wasting all of it, but in the end, it _was_ your kill.”

 

With his terms given, the witch turned on heel and began to stride away back toward the tree line from whence he had emerged, pausing only for a moment to look over his shoulder at the Wildling before drawing up his hood and vanishing into the gloom. Ren waited, a minute passing before he felt the warmth snuff itself out in his chest, a clawed hand raising to explore the now cool skin with knit brows as his mind emerged from its fog.

 

“Of _course_ he added another term to the agreement afterward,” he growled, glaring down at the unicorn he hardly felt like eating anymore. “ _Witches_ …”


	2. Gathering the Pack

Night came quietly following the meeting of the wildling and the witch. Ren tore himself from his daydreaming as he remembered his responsibilities. Giving the dead unicorn a final, disdainful glare, he shook the dampness from his furred limbs before raising his head to utter a haunting call into the air. Within moments, other voices from various, far-flung corners of the forest echoed back in reply. Ren only gave a relieved snort after he heard the sixth. Good, they were all safe.

One by one, six other wildlings would arrive in the clearing as the sun vanished behind the mountains and cast them into growing shadows, their eyes adjusting easily to the gloom. First came the smallest of them, an eager, tan and brown female with water-slick fur and hair that still dripped as she clicked happily at Ren, her sharp-toothed grin pink with blood and her freckled cheeks still flecked with fish scales.

 

“Otter,” he acknowledged her with a nod from his post on a nearby rock, tail tucked up around the front of his legs. “Good hunt?” 

“Very, very,” she hummed, beaming at him a moment before turning to investigate the unicorn. “The river is heavy, storms always bring out the big fish. But look at you, you got a silver horse.”

“It was hardly worth the headache it caused,” he grumbled, earning an inquisitive look from the other wildling. “I’ll explain once the others come.”

“Unlike you,” another voice observed, a greenish-brown wildling appearing from the tree above Ren, skin covered in moss and scales rather than fur, his tail coiled into a spiral. “To regret a hunt. Must be big news.”

“Chameleon,” Ren muttered, glancing up and watching the other hop from the tree to join Otter, checking her for injuries until she hissed at him and whapped him in the nose with a palm. 

“Silver horse!” crowed a third wildling as he bounded into the clearing, losing his footing in his enthusiasm and tumbled to the ground, rolling through the grass until he came to a halt thanks to one of Chameleon’s feet flicking out against his forehead to stop him.

 

Easily twice the size of Ren in muscle weight, this wildling was white from head to toe, boasting thick fur, wicked-long claws, and a stub where a tail had once been that accounted for his poor sense of balance. He blinked up at Chameleon with pink eyes a moment before giving a loud laugh.

 

“Easy, Bear, you graceless oaf,” Ren snorted, clearly amused as he smirked a bit. 

“I _thought_ I smelled a delicacy,” crooned another female voice, though far more aged than Otter.

 

A thin, somewhat frail-looking wilding with clouded amber eyes stepped carefully into the clearing as she held to the arm of a black-maned wildling that walked with a gnarled wooden cane. While she was cream and grey with a pointed nose and feather-like patches of fur, he was tawny-furred, battle-scarred and had a slight limp. Patting his arm in thanks, she stood away to crouch and accept a hug from Otter as she skipped up to her, smiling at the younger wildling’s affection.

 

“And how is my little imp?”

“Full of fish, Lady Heron!”

“Been a while since we had silver horse, yer kind to share, Ren,” the maned wildling said, the volume of his voice a bit louder than necessary.

“Better than wasting it, Lion,” Ren called back, rising from the rock to await the sixth and final member of his pack.

 

Finally, the last wildling arrived, slipping quietly into the clearing as the first stars began to appear in the night sky. They were taller than any of the others, long hair falling into their face and thin fingers clasped together over their stomach, boasting brown-spotted tan fur and a charming smile as they saw the others gathered together. Unlike the other wildlings, they wore a tattered poncho that they had stolen from a human’s laundry line, preferring to keep it draped over their narrow shoulders and chest.

 

“Hyena, there you are,” Ren greeted, rolling his eyes as the other playfully bowed at the waist to him. “That’s everyone, then.”

 

Ren’s pack were an odd bunch, as wildlings generally did not live in large groups, preferring a solitary life or the company of only one or two others. When he was young and on his own, he had struggled, often going days between meals and being reduced to scavenging when larger predators---even other wildlings---would bully him away from his kills. One summer, he stumbled upon a pack that had come to rest beside a lake, several of the younger members playing in the water while the older wildlings kept watch. Approaching cautiously, Ren was greeted by the Alpha, a grizzled old female with silvery fur and kind green eyes.  

In time, he came to understand that the pack had formed out of necessity, each wildling present possessing some manner of disadvantage that was overcome by forming a unit. The Alpha explained that no one wildling could do everything on their own, but as a pack, nothing was impossible. When her time came years later, she chose Ren as her successor, trusting that the young but passionate wildling would do right by them. Of the original pack, only two of the elders remained, four others having joined after the passing of the former Alpha.

 

“Anything of interest in the wood as of late?” he asked, settling now that his pack was together again. 

“All is calm on the edge of the wood,” Hyena replied. “Though the humans have built a new wall. Iron spikes along the top, they’ve learned to fear our kind.”

“There’s a new pack of wolves prowling at the base of the stone slope,” Otter chirped, settling to sit beside Chameleon in the cool grass. “Scrappy things, I don’t think they’ll pose a threat.”

“More scouts,” he supplied as he ruffled the smaller wildling’s hair playfully. “Just looking, mapping. No hunts, but they carry weapons. Will continue to watch.”

“Lion found a dragon’s scale by the south lake,” Lady Heron explained, perching herself on a nearby log after her companion led her to it. “No other signs, so we hope that it was merely passing through and stopped for water.”

“Did you tell him about the scale?” Lion loudly asked, causing her to laugh softly with a nod as she pat his leg when he sat beside her.

“Autumn’s waning early this cycle,” Bear offered with a yawn, flopping onto his back in the grass with a pat to his round belly. “Gathered up lots of nuts and fruit for the winter cave, checked the water spring. Everything should be ready for us when the first frost comes.”

 

Ren took his time circling through his gathered pack, making certain that each was in good health as he listened to each wildling’s report, pleased to find everything in order and nothing of great concern to address. Sighing, he hopped back onto his rock and ran a hand through his hair, tutting as a finger snagged on a tangle.

 

“I’ve called you all in for your share of my kill, but also to tell you of a new...problem,” he began, already earning a look of concern from Otter and a raised brow from Lady Heron. “Do you see the trap there? Beside the unicorn?”

“I had wondered,” Chameleon agreed with a nod. “You wouldn’t take easy prey from a trap.” 

“No, I wouldn’t. I was chasing it down and got my own leg stuck. It isn’t like the ones the humans use with sharp teeth. Cold iron and engraved with runes, it’s a witch’s trap.”

“ _Witches_? This deep in the wood?” Otter blurted, eyes wide.

“ _A_ witch,” Ren corrected, looking a touch embarrassed after admitting his mistake. “A male one. He had been baiting the trap for the same unicorn that I had been tracking, and unfortunately, our paths crossed with me at a severe disadvantage.”

“And what could have possibly inspired a witch to give up a unicorn _and_ a wildling?” Lady Heron hummed, intrigued by the unfolding story, eyes crinkling with a sly smile.

“I made a deal with him. And that’s where my problem lies…”

“ _Our_ problem,” Hyena corrected with a chuckle. “Nothing we face we face alone. So, what did we offer the witch in return for your life?”

“The Prince of the Forest,” Ren sighed, flinching as Hyena burst into laughter.

“But that doesn’t make any sense, you---” Otter began, but Chameleon shushed her with a pat to the head.

“We hunt the Great Stag!” Bear cheered, sitting upright in his excitement, clapping his hands together.

“That’s quite a task you’ve taken on,” Lady Heron said, blind eyes lifting to the sky. “I remember long ago when I was young, I saw the Stag. More like a bolt of lightning, he outruns even the wind. Do you really believe you can catch him?”

“If anyone can, it’s Ren,” Otter huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

“How long do we have? Until the witch wants payment,” Chameleon asked.

“Winter,” their leader grumbled, moving over to poke at the unicorn’s head with his foot. “The witch didn’t _exactly_ require it, but suggested it pretty heavily. He can keep an eye on my whereabouts, so I would prefer that our gatherings be brief and far between. I don’t want him to know about the rest of you.”

“But we are a pack, we do everything together, as one,” Hyena hummed, wiping a tear of humor from their eye. “That breaks our rule.”

“I’m still your leader,” Ren countered, kneeling down at the unicorn’s side to begin butchering it for his pack, Chameleon and Otter soon joining him to make the work easier while their older packmates rested. “It’s my duty to protect each of you. But that said, I can still count on you each to play a part. The wood is too vast for me to hunt the Prince alone, after all. I’m certain I can take him down, but tracking him, flushing him out...that’s what I need help with.”

“Anything you need, we do,” Lady Heron offered, Lion looking to her for a moment before glancing back to the others by the unicorn.

“I know,” he replied with a half-smile, handing the heart to Otter, who wandered off to give it to Lady Heron. “We need to work quickly, I don’t want to have this... _thing_ looking over my back any longer than I have to. So tonight, we rest and make ready, we’ll begin the hunt tomorrow.”

“Plan?” Chameleon asked, taking the liver from the other wildling’s hands to offer it to Lion.

“Starting at first light, we divide up again and begin combing the wood,” Ren explained, handing off a sizable hunk of meat to Otter as she returned, sending her over to Bear with it. “Lady Heron, you and Lion will take the north. Bear and Hyena, west. You and Otter take south and I’ll start in the east. Call out if you find any signs of the Prince and we’ll work on running him to exhaustion and cornering him someplace. Drive him to the briars if you can, even he can’t prance through them as easily. Get him tangled up, surrounded, and I can finish him off.”

“Sounds fun!” Bear laughed around a mouthful, cheeks slick with silvery blood as he grinned eagerly at their new hunt.

“Can we wear the skulls, Ren? _Please_? It’s been so long, and this is as special a hunt as they come!” Otter chirped, Chameleon smirking around a mouthful.

“Gods help the poor humans if they see us. You remember what happened _last_ time we wore them,” Lady Heron chuckled, though even she offered a sharp grin. “We became legend.”

 

On very special, rare occasions, the pack would gather to don blackened skulls and armor made of bone before tracking their quarry. Ren found that these trappings heightened their senses and tapped them into a deep, primal energy hidden inside all wildlings. These artifacts had always been part of this pack as far as he knew, his own passed down to him when the former Alpha passed. When not in use, they were kept in their winter cave, and he was ultimately the one who decided if and when they would wear them.

Ren wished he knew more about where they had come from, but there was no recorded history: they just _were_. New packmates would first prove their worth before being taken down into the chamber in which they stored the skulls and armor, and only when they had found the one that called to them would they be given a name that was usually based on the skull that had chosen them.

 

“Let them spin their rumors, any of them that get in the way will learn the truth for themselves,” Ren grumbled, looking over his fellow wildlings and he felt his spirits lifting already, even beginning to get genuinely excited for the hunt. “We’ll wear the skulls.”  
  
“I haven’t been on a Great Hunt in eons,” Hyena sighed, looking wistful. “This will be fun.”

“You _do_ realize the ripples this will cause, however,” Lady Heron spoke up, turning her unseeing gaze to Ren with a somber expression. “In claiming the life of the Prince, you vacate his crown. It would leave the wood vulnerable, not to have a leader.”

“The witch wants the crown, what he chooses to do with that responsibility is none of my concern once the task is done,” Ren growled, nose wrinkling slightly. “We keep to our own, I don’t see why I should worry about anyone else being vulnerable.”

“Still a stubborn pup,” Hyena scoffed, teeth showing in their wide smile. “You _would_ pass that burden to someone else.”

“Someone who _wants_ it!” he snapped back, earning laughter from the other wildling. “The witch lives in the wood, so he knows how things work. He would have refused my offer if it wasn’t something he was after!” 

“Is it wise to let a witch be the new Prince? I’ve not heard pleasant things about them,” Otter inquired, brushing at her scale-sprinkled cheek with the back of a hand. “What if he’s a cruel ruler and banishes us? Or makes an alliance with the human’s king and lets them chop all the trees down and hunt unchecked?”

“You worry too much,” Chameleon snorted, earning a smack to his arm by the small wildling. 

“I worry just the right amount! The humans _already_ push their boundaries, all quiet and sneaky,” she huffed. “If they take over the wood, we lose our home!”

“I would never let that happen,” Ren assured her.

“Well, then I hope you know how to fight a witch if you need to,” she concluded, arms crossing over her chest as she stared at him firmly. “Because _I_ don’t trust someone you had to cut a deal with to avoid getting...eaten? Do witches _eat_ wildlings?”

“I think he mentioned using me for ingredients…” he admitted, flinching when she glared at him. “Alright, alright! I get it. I’ll be more cautious. Like I said, we get this done quick and never have to deal with him again.”

“Unless he starts causing problems for us,” Otter added sourly.

“Yes, unless he starts causing problems for us,” Ren sighed, trying not to look sheepish at her scolding.

 

Seeming faintly satisfied with his reassurances, the young wildling gave him a nod and returned to eating while Ren looked skyward to study the stars. Bear was right, autumn was already beginning to fade, which gave them much less time to track the Prince. If winter came before they could find him, it would not only become increasingly difficult to pick up his trail, but the witch would surely be on his heels to make sure he made good on his end of their bargain.

Grumbling to himself, Ren got up from the rock and sniffed at the air. Damp leaves, a flowing river, the unicorn and his pack...nothing else of note that he could pick up on. Not that he didn’t trust the other wildlings to be able to take care of themselves, but he was always on-edge, taking his responsibility as their leader quite seriously. Nighttime in the wood could be unforgiving, and now knowing that there was a witch living someplace relatively close by, Ren wasn’t going to take any chances by letting his guard down. Tail twitching behind him, he had the urge to go to their hibernal winter cave tonight, if only to give himself something to do other than thinking.

 

“Go,” Hyena chuckled with a fond grin. “Even Lady Heron can see that you’re restless. We won’t go anywhere.”

“Will keep watch,” Chameleon offered. “Fetching the bones?”

“Yeah, fetching the bones. Should only take me a few trips. I’m just anxious to get things going, I guess.”

“Race the wind, may as well practice!” laughed Bear from the grass.

“Exactly,” Ren snorted with a grin, taking one last look at his pack before slipping off into the shadows.

 

Despite loving their company, there were times when it could be overwhelming to be subjected to so many voices and scents all at once for extended periods of time, and Ren needed space to himself. There was an indescribable lightness when he pushed himself to his limits, air howling through his hair and even the sting in his eyes...it’s what he imagined birds and other flying creatures must have felt all the time, though no matter how fast he went, it was never quite _enough_. He could never leave the ground like wings would allow, and soon enough he would grow winded and need to slow down or stop altogether to catch his breath.  

It reminded him briefly of the forced contentment that the witch’s curse caused, still able to recall the odd sensation of having warm sunlight in his chest. It had been...nice, which only served to confuse and piss him off, driving the wildling to run even faster. Nothing about the witch was nice, from his smug face to his unnaturally clean clothes, it all just made him want to shove him down into a bog and drown him in the muck.

 

“Would serve him right,” he hissed to himself as he bounded effortlessly over a fallen tree, pushing deeper and deeper into the wood.

 

Come morning light, the great hunt would begin, and then he could wash his hands of the whole affair forever. At least, that had been the _plan_...


	3. Fall of the Forest Prince

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hours turn to days turn to weeks as the wildlings comb the forest for the Prince as autumn begins to wane, leaving them precious little time to claim their prize by the witch's deadline.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: this chapter contains relatively graphic descriptions of an animal being hunted and killed. If you wish to skip this and continue with the story, skip the content between the line breaks and read from after the second set. You won't miss any critical information, I promise <3

Beneath the shadow of his skull, Ren lost himself for hours, days, even weeks. Time was meaningless. In the back of his mind, he was only faintly aware of the shifting of the seasons as autumn began to wane and the first frost wilted the grass. But in the Great Hunt, the wildlings were no longer themselves but an unstoppable force, their souls woven together by their otherworldly helms as a single-minded entity that spanned the depths of the wood. Crouched in the shadows, Ren could feel six hearts beating as one in his own chest, could hear a crow calling in the north as Otter stalked along the riverbed, could smell the sap beneath the bark of the tree Chameleon scaled up for a better vantage point, and after the sixth week, he felt Lion’s roar from his own throat as he cornered the Prince at last.

 

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* * *

* * *

 

From all corners of the forest, the wildlings converged on the briar field, taking their places in a ring that drew tighter and tighter around their prize. After so long eluding them at every turn, the great stag had finally tired, his flanks slick with sweat and sad black eyes bleary from lack of rest. At eight feet hoof-to-antler, the Prince was normally an impressive sight: fur patterned to match the trees of the wood, gnarled antlers that bloomed with flowers in spring, and fresh growths sprang to life beneath the tread of his hooves. But after so many days under the relentless driving by the wildlings, he heaved for breath and stumbled over his own legs as he sought a route of escape. The briars served the wildlings well by worsening the Prince’s balance and slowed any progress he could make, wandering deeper and deeper into the tangle as the pack closed ranks and closed their circle further around him.

With the others keeping the stag contained, it was Ren who took point to wear the creature down further, giving false lunges to send him in one direction before leaping over his head to redirect him into another. With any other large prey, it would have a been a simple task of overwhelming it with their numbers and bringing it down with tooth and claw, but this was different: they needed this one fully intact. Not a drop of blood was to be wasted, if it could be avoided, so it would be up to Ren to be the one to deal the final blow.

 At last, the Prince gave a weak cry as his leg caught against a jagged bit of rock that nearly caused him to buckle altogether, becoming distracted by the sudden burst of pain. Still, he managed to limp a few paces away before a weight crashed against his side as Ren charged with a wild roar echoed through the other wildlings. Stumbling at the assault, the Prince fought to remain upright as best he could, but the effort exceeded the energy he had left and within moments, he lost his footing and collapsed onto his side. Wailing in panic, he began to thrash his legs, but it was soon apparent that it was exactly what Ren had been hoping for: the more the massive stag struggled, the further he entangled himself in the briars. While making sure the Prince didn’t manage to escape, the wildlings kept to their ring as their leader stood vigil to the creature’s waning efforts. It wasn’t until the stag stopped moving and simply lay there breathing shallowly that Ren crept close again from behind, moving slowly to avoid startling him. Carefully---and ready to leap off if the stag flailed---the wildling knelt at his side and anchored one knee against the back of the creature’s neck, just below his head.

 

“Be at peace,” he murmured quietly, his voice almost tender as clawed hands reached out to take hold of either side of the stag’s nose.

“Your fight is over now.”

 

As he did this, the other wildlings came forward at last, kneeling down as well so that a pair was at each of the Prince’s legs to keep them pinned to the ground as Ren began to draw the stag’s head backward towards himself while pushing with all his might at the creature’s neck with his knee. Despite his exhaustion, the stag resisted, trying to pull his nose loose of the wildling’s straining grasp, even though he had no hope of escaping the pack in the end.

Several minutes would pass before the light began to fade from the Prince’s eyes and he huffed out one last whine of discomfort before there came a fatal crack, the stag going limp beneath them. Ren heaved a sigh of relief and reverently lay the creature’s head back down on the ground before standing along with the other wildlings, only then removing the skull from over his face.

 

* * *

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

“It’s done,” he muttered, the others each removing their own skulls to hold against their chests in a sign of respect.

“Long hunt,” Cameleon commented, but offered a pleased smile. “A worthy prey.”

“He certainly was,” Lady Heron hummed. “What a magnificent challenge. I feared we would never get him worn down.”

“But Ren did the trickiest part,” Otter praised their leader, beaming at him proudly. “His neck didn’t wanna give!”

“My arms are sore as hell because of it,” Ren grumbled, glancing off to the side to avoid looking at her expression for too long. “It felt like I was trying to snap a tree in half.”

“What now?” Bear asked, giving a yawn before snuffling at the crisp evening air.

“We rest for tonight, gods know we deserve it,” was Ren’s reply, finally smiling a touch at his pack. “In the morning, I will carry the Prince back to the witch’s domain and be done with it. 

“We cut it a bit close, I can feel Winter’s touch tonight,” Hyena chuckled. “I do hope he won’t be cross with you for a late delivery.”

“It’s not late yet, not until---” he began, but stopped as a sudden snowflake fluttered down to land on the tip of his nose, the wildling blinking at it in a cross-eyed manner that left Hyena doubled over in a fit of laughter.

“Just get a fire going, scavenger!” Ren snapped at them, but the wildling only grinned at him fondly before doing as they were bid. “We will take turns keeping vigil over the Prince, I won’t see anyone or anything take our prize before I can deliver it.”

 

Once the wildlings had a fire crackling merrily in a clearing not far from the briars, the Prince was carried to rest beside their makeshift camp as they settled in for the night. Despite exhaustion creeping up on him, Ren took the first watch, his thoughts still on the hunt. Honestly, he had wanted to begin the trip to the witch’s domain that very night, before the stag even had a chance to cool off and stiffen, but he knew his body would never have cooperated. He _could_ put the skull back on and ignored the pain, but they had been warned by their elders to never wear them for much longer than a month or they would risk perishing; the witch and his prize were certainly not worth that risk. Some hours later, Chameleon relieved him for watch and Ren curled himself up in the spot the other wildling had just left beside Otter. Sleep claimed him quickly, just as soon as he closed his eyes, and the wildling did not so much as stir again until it was early afternoon the next day.

 

**(( ))o(( ))o(( ))o(( ))o(( ))**

 

Cursing himself for being lazy and sleeping in longer than he’d intended, Ren instructed the others to spend the day recovering from their hunt, promising that he would take care of himself after the Prince was delivered and the spells removed. Bear and Lion hefted the buck from the ground and arranged him on Ren’s shoulders, only letting go once he had given them a nod of confirmation. Without another word, the wildling slipped off into the wood, able to run in short bursts but eventually he stamped down on his impatience and kept to a steady pace that he was able to maintain. Thankfully, the sun was warm enough to chase away the frost and the few flakes of snow that had fallen the night previous hadn’t even managed to stick to the ground in the first place. By the time the sun had begun to set, he stepped from within the safety of the trees and into a clearing he had never seen before. 

Held within the sizable ring of cleared land were several gardens and plowed spaces for crops to grow, but these were nothing to pay much notice compared to the massive willow that seemed to have grown up through the roof of a cottage. Or were the two fused as one? Either way, the tree was easily thirty feet tall, its cascading branches dangling down over the cottage with glass baubles holding candles tied to them here and there that lent it the illusion of being visited by massive fireflies. Standing uncertainly at the edge of the unknown, Ren startled as a figure appeared off to the side of his vision. Stumbling slightly, he blinked a moment until recognition crossed his features at the sight of a human with bright orange hair. Yet, something was _off_. When last they met, Hux had short hair that he had kept slicked back, but now it fell in gentle waves to his shoulders. In fact, the hard edges and stern posture he distinctly remembered about the man were also absent, the witch’s features seeming softer somehow and he lacked any sort of footwear despite the cold night descending upon them. The witch raised a hand in greeting, though kept a respectable distance.

 

“Your hair...grew,” Ren found himself muttering awkwardly, frowning.

“Has it?” the witch replied, a brow raising as a playful smile tugged his lips, lifting a hand to toy with a stray lock. “I suppose I should tell you a secret: it _has_ been known to do that.”

“Hair doesn’t grow _that_ much _that_ fast, idiot,” Ren snapped, gesturing angrily at the witch’s hair. “ _That’s_ what I meant.”

“Well, I admit, my hair _was_ shorter at the start of autumn, but---”

“That’s what I just said,” the wildling interrupted with a growl.

“No, you said that it _grew_ ,” the witch corrected with a laugh. “At most, it may have grown a knuckle’s length.”

“You’re full of hog’s shit!” Ren huffed.

 “Hardly, there’s no room for it between all the bones and blood and---”

 

“Just shut up already and take your stag,” the wildling grumbled, hefting the Prince from his shoulders to carefully lay on the ground between them.

“Oh! This is the stag you promised to get for us?” the witch turned, gesturing for Ren to follow him. “Here, come, let’s get it to the house.”

“I’m not carrying it any further until you undo these spells on me,” Ren replied with a shake of his head.  
  
“Well, that’s a tricky situation to put me in, isn’t it?” the witch replied, turning to face Ren again with an apologetic smile. “I can’t.”

“What...what do you mean you _can’t_?”

“I meant exactly what I said: I can’t undo them.”

“That was part of our arrangement!” Ren shouted, fingers curling into fists at his sides.

“No, not _ours_ ,” the witch replied. “Just a minor bit of confusion, that’s all.”

“A **minor** \---?! You _will_ remove these spells, witch!” the wildling commanded fiercely, advancing on the man a few paces.

 

“Now now, calm down,” the witch urged, holding his hands up toward the wildling. “There’s no need to shout. As I said, _I_ can’t undo them. Only the witch who cast the spells can undo them.”

“But you _did_ cast them!” Ren shouted, sounding more frustrated than genuinely mad at this point.

“I think I would have remembered doing that,” countered the witch with a chuckle.

“I’m going to tear your face off like I should have done weeks ago!” the wildling snarled with bared teeth.

“Oh? Will you really? That’s a bit odd, don’t you think?” hummed the witch, nearly in a sing-song tone that only made Ren want to make good on his threat all the more. 

“What are you talking about?” he asked, tail lashing in agitation behind him.

“Wanting to tear my face off, of course,” the witch replied, eyes crinkling and he seemed dangerously close to laughing.

“How is it odd?”

“Well, if I understand correctly, you have a tranquility curse cast on you.”

“Yeah, you put it there so I wouldn’t attack you. But you know that already!” Ren blurted.

“Feels like you swallowed sunshine and took a nap in the soft summer grass, doesn’t it?” the witch pressed on.

“Something like that, I guess? _So what_?” the wildling hissed, clearly reaching the end of his patience with the witch’s games. 

“ _I_ don’t think someone who swallowed sunshine and took a nap in the soft summer grass would be standing there threatening to tear my face off. Do _you_?”

 

A long pause followed as Ren stared openly at the witch, who was smiling politely as he seemed to be waiting for the wilding to sort through his thoughts. Things weren’t adding up, and from the start of their conversation, he had had a sense that he was being played with...not in an unkind manner, but the witch had chosen his words carefully to keep the ruse going. But now he had the last piece of the puzzle that he had needed: the effects of the curse hadn’t activated because he wasn’t actually close enough to the witch who had put it on him. That would only mean...

 

“You aren’t Hux,” he concluded at last.

“Correct,” the witch confirmed with a nod.

“So, you’re--?”

“My name is Clan,” he explained, nearly in tears from restraining his bemusement. “Hux is my brother.” 

“Oh gods, there’re _two_ of you?!” Ren groaned, and Clan finally burst into laughter that was more than evidence enough that this _wasn’t_ Hux.

“Now, let’s get inside, Hux is waiting for us,” Clan turned again to start toward the cottage. “Hold a moment, though, I need to clear the traps for you.”

 

Ren stood in embarrassed anger for a long moment before he reached down to grab hold of the stag and strained to get him back over his shoulders. If it had been a regular deer or any other dead animal, he might have been tempted to simply drag the body along out of annoyance at the trick that he had just endured, but he held more respect for the Prince than to give in to that whim. Lost in thought, he very nearly fell backward over his own feet as for a moment when he saw the witch engulfed in a burst of flame. But it was part of a spell of some sort: as Clan swung his hooded cape up over his head, it blazed bright for a moment and in the witch’s wake, a brilliant orange fox stood. Dumbfounded, Ren took a step toward the creature, which was closer in size to a wolf than any common fox he had ever seen. Clan turned to look at him with deep blue eyes before giving a laugh-like bark at his expression and bounded off, hopping up here and there along a pathway that the wildling could not see. Whenever the fox landed, an iron trap snapped shut just a split second after he had lept away again.

Quietly wondering exactly what he had gotten himself into, Ren slowly followed after the fox, stepping around the disabled traps and was careful not to stray from the path Clan was creating for him. It took several minutes, but soon they reached the cottage and the fox’s form burst apart once more and reformed into that of the witch, who politely opened the door so that Ren could pass inside. Hesitant for a moment, he finally sighed and ducked beneath the frame and stepped into his first human dwelling. The smooth stone floor was warm against the pads of his feet and almost instantly, the swell of summer’s sun bloomed in his chest and worked its way up to his head. Following after the wildling, Clan closed the door behind them and motioned for Ren to follow him from the entryway and down a nearby hall. The air was thick with the smell of drying herbs, unfamiliar spices, leather and honey, fruit that was no longer in season, and roasted meat. Everywhere he looked, there were tables lining the walls laden with scrolls and tomes, pedestals holding crystals, feather pens and ink pots, labeled bottles and jars, candles and trinkets that glittered in the warm light.

From what he had heard of witches, Ren had expected a much more somber and, perhaps, grizzly abode. True, there _were_ bones and containers of animals parts floating in a kaleidoscope of colored liquids on many of the shelves, but somehow even those managed to be pleasant to the eye. No pools of blood, no rotting bodies strung up on hooks, no shambling minions reanimated from the fallen...the witches’ home was warm and inviting, though he briefly wondered if that wasn’t just another trick of the curse. Clan brought him to a parlor of some sort with a large slab of black stone that had been carved into a primitive table, and standing beside it was the other witch. Hux smirked as they approached, his expression akin to a cat that had finally caught a mouse, sending a faint chill up Ren’s spine despite the warmth in his chest.

 

“Well well, you managed it, after all,” he chuckled, arms laced behind his back as he looked from the wildling to the buck draped over his shoulders. “And with much more grace than the unicorn, I see. Which, I must say, is impressive...you barely left any of that unfortunate creature behind.”  
  
“We _did_ get a nice horn out of it,” Clan reminded his brother, though the other snorted with a sharp look to the wildling.

“Oh yes, no one is debating that, brother, it _was_ a lovely horn. I just find it quite _curious_ that one wildling could consume the entirety of a unicorn in one night on his own,” Hux riddled, lips drawn into a sly smile. “Don’t you?” 

“I’m sure Ren simply took what he needed back to his home. You think too much,” the other witch sighed, moving back to the wildling. “Now come, help me get the Prince from his shoulders so he can rest, I’m sure it was a long trip.” 

“He isn’t our guest, Clan, he’s an errand boy at most,” Hux tutted, but stepped forward as well to assist Clan in lifting the buck up and over onto the stone table. “And I’m certain he would like to be on his way.” 

“An errand boy is still a guest when you never have visitors. Besides, night has fallen and it’s cold, the least we can do is let him stay with us for the night after the trouble of bringing the Prince all this way.”

 

Hux narrowed his eyes at his brother, who only offered a sly smile of his own in return. As the two witches seemed to be occupied arguing with each other over what to do with the wildling, Ren idly studied the room. Unlike the hall and the entryway, this space had dark red walls and ornate metal containers billowing scented smoke lined the various shelves over wooden workbenches that held knives and other tools the wildling only vaguely recognized. If he had to hazard a guess, this room was used for some sort of rituals. His eyes fell to the floor and the curve of a channel that was carved into it that wound its way to link with several that ran down along the sides of the table at the center.

 

“What will you do with the Prince now?” Ren asked, eyes growing heavy under the combination of incense and the tranquility curse. 

“Would you like to stay and see?” Clan asked hopefully, earning a reproachful glare from his brother.

“I think so,” he agreed with a nod. “Then you can remove your spells and I’ll leave.”

“The sooner the better,” Hux sighed, looking a bit put upon but it was already decided. “Very well, sit in the corner on a cushion and keep out of the way. Don’t touch anything and try not to bother us with questions.” 

“Ignore him. _I_ like questions,” Clan countered, giving Ren a wink before padding over to one of the workbenches to begin sorting through the tools.

 

Bristling faintly at the gesture, the wildling moved to seat himself in a corner of the room that had been piled up with various silk cushions, brushing a hand over the fabric idly to admire the cool texture against his rough skin. While part of him railed at his decision to linger instead of returning promptly to his pack, Ren couldn’t help but to feed his gnawing, insatiable curiosity. Having only crossed paths with humans in passing, this was really his first---and perhaps only---opportunity to learn more about them. At the very least, the witches seemed to be much more fascinating than the common villagers or king’s men he had seen in the wood, and he wanted to be sure that the Prince received an honorable ending and not turned into some game hunter’s trophy while the rest of the body went to waste.

...besides, what could it possibly hurt to rest there for a bit before he was on his way?


	4. The Witches' Gambrel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drawn into a hypnotic web woven by the twin witches, Ren plays audience to a ritual rather than departing as soon as his delivery had been made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As with the previous chapter, this one also contains somewhat graphic descriptions of the process of handling and skinning a dead animal. You can skip through this content and begin reading after the break without missing anything vital to the plot!

If Ren were to describe the events of that first evening in the witches’ home, he would say it was as if he had fallen asleep and stepped into another’s dream. He was aware of his surroundings, of the presence of Hux to the left side of the altar and Clan to the right, but nothing felt completely real. Chalking it up to the odd, fragrant smoke that coiled through the air, the wildling nested himself comfortably in the pile of cushions as he watched the twins work.

 

“Táimid ag onóir do bháis,” Hux spoke quietly with a bone-handled blade near to his lips.

“We honor your death,” Clan echoed in the common tongue for Ren’s benefit, he suspected.

 

* * *

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

It was a curious practice, the wildling idly observed. Rather than how he himself had butchered countless animals for himself and for his pack, the two witches had a vastly different---yet no less practiced---approach. Using the knives, they first cut the buck open as he had seen humans do when they went hunting in the woods, moving independently of one another but never getting in the other’s way. Removing the various organs one by one, Hux would cut them free and hand them to his brother, who would place them into various vessels on one of the tables along the wall, presumably to be used later. In between the hand-offs, Clan spent his time cataloguing all that they were gathering, writing notes down in a leather-bound tome with a feather pen.

It did put Ren at ease somewhat to know that they wouldn’t waste any of the stag, especially after the hard work he and his pack had gone through in order to bring it to the witches. Shifting his gaze lazily, he noticed that at some point, one of the brothers must have moved metal urns beneath the channels in the alter, watching the blood drain into them rather than onto the floor. He could only guess what they used it for, though he wouldn’t have been surprised if it was just the stern witch’s desire to keep things tidy.

Clan would turn occasionally to check on their guest, giving the wildling a slight smile before going back to what he had been doing. Neither was used to having an audience, but Hux was thankful that Ren had remained quiet and not under foot. Once they had the buck completely opened up and the organs were out of the way, the knives were set aside and Clan pulled at a nearby chain to lower some sort of wooden bar baring two iron hooks from the ceiling. Not realizing that he had, the wildling was up on his feet again to creep closer, curious despite himself to watch what they did next. With a nod from the short-haired witch, both brothers took hold of one of the buck’s hind legs and hefted them up until they could pierce the hooks through each just above the knee. Satisfied that he was securely placed, Clan ran the chain the other way to lift the bar upward again, raising the stag from the altar. It was then that the witches took up their knives once more, this time to begin the slow, delicate process of skinning the creature without ruining his hide. Well-placed cuts were used to separate skin from flesh and bone, the two witches peeling the hide in a solid piece as much as was possible, making sure not to take too much of the meat with it as they went.

Unless they needed bedding or to make cloaks for the cold months, the wildlings usually had little care for the condition they left a kill’s skin in, far more concerned with what lay within. So Ren found himself admiring the process and the clear care that went into it, circling the pair slowly as they worked. As he was asked, he did not offer any commentary or questions, nor did he get in their way, far too absorbed in his observations to really come up with anything worth voicing at the time. Just as it was when he wore his skull helm, Ren lost track of time and any real needs beyond sating his curiosity, returning to his cushions after a while when he could sense that Hux was getting a bit annoyed with his hovering. Clan disappeared from the room when they had the hide free, explaining that he needed to set it up for tanning and left his brother to clean up their workspace. Hux guided the last of the blood from the stone slab before capping the vessels on the floor and wiping any excess from the crevices with a scrap of cloth.

 

* * *

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

“What happens now?” Ren finally asked, almost surprised to hear his voice after untold hours of sitting in silence.

“Clan will scrape the remaining fat and flesh from the hide before putting it in a saltwater bath for several days,” Hux supplied, washing his hands off in a basin of water on one of the work tables. “When it’s ready, we will de-hair the hide and then tan it using eggs and beeswax. We also will let the Prince hang here for about a week to age the meat before we butcher it. The room’s temperature will be lowered to prevent rot, of course. Some we will keep to eat immediately, some we will preserve for future use, but a sizable portion will be prepared for you and your pack.”

“For me and my pack…” Ren repeated, but blinked from his stupor with a concerned expression. “How do you know about the others?”

 

Turning to look at the wildling, the witch gave a smile that sent a brief chill down his spine.

 

“If I hadn’t known before, I would now,” he replied without offering an actual answer, drying his hands on a towel as he wandered over to Ren. “Regardless, you will be given a fair share of the meat and bones for your combined efforts.”

“That’s...oddly kind of you.”

“Hm, well, it was Clan’s idea, actually,” Hux said, offering a hand to help the wildling from the pile of cushions. “I would have argued that such a gesture had not been offered to us with the unicorn, but he reasoned that what we _did_ get to keep from that kill was well worth losing some of this creature’s meat for.”

 

Accepting the hand, Ren rose and squinted at the witch for a moment before remembering to let it go, tail flicking behind himself as he shifted awkwardly. He didn’t enjoy being so out of his depths, especially in Hux’s domain where he held the upper hand.

 

“I should leave,” he finally suggested, and Hux gestured him through the doorway.

“You’ll find no argument here,” the witch scoffed before leading the way back to the central part of the house, the fire still crackling cheerfully in the large, stone hearth.

“The spells. You will remove them first.”

“That _is_ what I agreed to do, I’ve no need to maintain a curse on you if our paths diverge from this point.”

 

Reaching out, Hux placed a hand against Ren’s chest, just above his heart. He could feel it beating rapidly beneath the skin, admiring the sensation for just a moment before closing his eyes to focus. Pulling a curse loose was a bit more complicated than placing it, requiring the witch to will the tiny tendrils of magic to release and retract, slowly drawing the countless veins into a single mass focused just beneath his palm. Like asking a plant to uproot itself rather than tearing it forcibly from the ground and causing untold damage, Hux didn’t intend to maim the wildling by being hasty in his work. It did, however, leave Ren with an icy sensation he was unfamiliar with, his senses tingling as the tranquility’s effect began to wane . Ren would rather die than admit to it, but he had found the warmth a pleasant enough side effect of the witch’s magic, but he would be happy to have his mind and body unclouded.

 

“Thanks, I---” the wildling began, but was interrupted as Clan half-sprinted into the room from an adjoining hall, inhaling sharply as Hux lost focus and removed his hand to see what the matter was, leaving the heavy heat of the curse to wash over him again like a wave.

“Wait! You can’t leave just yet!” he gasped, apparently having run from wherever it was he had been. “It’s just begun to snow and the moon shares none of her light tonight. Please, at least stay and rest here where it’s warm, until morning when the storm has passed.”

“Of _course_ winter would be so inconvenient,” Hux groaned, looking to his brother with a harried expression. “Did you know it was coming?”

“Well, if I said that I _didn’t_ , would you believe me?”

“Not particularly, no.”

“Then my answer doesn’t matter,” Clan snickered, stepping around his surly brother to nab Ren by the wrist. “Come, let me fix you some tea and a bit of something to eat.”

 

Ren wanted to protest, but as he lumbered along behind the slim witch, his ears perked and he could hear the howling of bitter winds outside, knowing that it would mean a miserable chill waiting just beyond the threshold and difficult passage through the snow if the moon offered no aid. While he didn’t much care for the idea of sleeping indoors, especially in a witch’s house, the wildling had no desire to be out in such weather. He knew his pack would seek the shelter of their cave and could take care of themselves, so there was no urgency in his departure beyond an unsettled feeling that he was being deceived. Still, Clan looked to him in such a kind and hopeful manner that even he didn’t think he had it in him to refuse, regardless of how the hairs on the back of his neck stood up to see those too-white teeth smiling at him.

Kitchens, as far as Ren knew, were permanent spaces that humans built within their homes dedicated to the preparation of meals. It always seemed like a lot of unnecessary fuss to him, as wildlings mostly ate raw meat and fruits, only bothering with cooking over a fire if the mood struck them, but as he took in the room, he supposed he could see the attraction. The stone beneath his feet had given way to warm beams of a black walnut that were polished, though thankfully not so slick that he lost traction with his padded feet. A table with two chairs---both of similar wood as the floor---lay at the center with a clay bowl of various summer fruits inside, the counters and shelves along the walls holding various containers and tools he imagined were for cooking and eating. Compared to the imposing ritual chamber, this space was pleasant and inviting, Ren concluding that it was likely a space that Clan occupied frequently.

 

“He is leaving in the morning, Clan, try not to get so familiar,” Hux warned as he followed after them. “There is no place here for a wildling, nor are we obligated to feed him. It’s kind enough that he isn’t out in the snow now.”

“Nonsense, Hux, where _are_ your manners? A guest is a guest, I won’t see him go to bed hungry or thirsty. Secondly, our house is too large for just the two of us and we have countless unused rooms,” the other witch huffed, urging Ren to sit by the small fireplace while he fetched a tin kettle from a nearby hook on the wall. “There is place here for the whole pack, actually.”

“We don’t belong inside, we aren’t pets,” the wildling countered, frowning at the very idea as he lowered himself to the floor, legs crossed over one another and his tail curled around his waist.

“I would never suggest such a thing!” Clan blurted, cheeks flushing a charming shade of pink as he nearly fumbled a box of tea leaves as he got it down from a cabinet. “I’m sorry, please don’t misunderstand. It was just a suggestion…”

“An unbidden one,” Hux snorted, sitting at the table as he squinted at his brother. “Ren is right. Wildlings are as their name suggests, they live in and by the wilds. Just as a bird belongs in the sky, they would never find comfort in living in a human dwelling.”

“Never say never, dear brother, or you’ll find yourself dining on your words someday,” Clan countered with a knowing sort of smile that made Hux raise a brow and Ren looked only even more out of his depths as he listened to the brothers argue.

“I...do appreciate it, the thought, I suppose,” the wildling said, trying not to upset the witch that was being hospitable to him, whereas the other seemed he would have been perfectly fine seeing him out in the elements. “I don’t require anything of either of you, I was only here as per our agreement and would have been gone just as quick if not for the sudden storm.”

“Sudden,” Hux grumbled, glancing hard at his brother, who was doing a stellar job of avoiding his gaze as he filled the kettle from a pump in their dish basin---another marvel of their house, Ren observed, to have clean water they could summon up from some unknown source. “Yes, quite odd for such a fierce storm to so _suddenly_ blow in and delay your departure.”

“I’m just glad Ren hadn’t left yet and got himself trapped in it,” the other witch said, ignoring his brother’s comment as he drummed his fingers along the side of the kettle once it was filled.

 

Looking away from Hux, the wildling tilted his head with a curious expression as beneath the drumming sound he began to hear a low bubbling of the water, eyebrows both raising with faint awe as he realized that the gesture was actually magic of some sort that was causing the kettle to boil of its own accord. Seemingly satisfied with the temperature, Clan poured some into the three cups of dried leaves he had prepared and within moments, the scent of the steam reached Ren and he caught himself after a moment of looking dumbfounded. If he had closed his eyes and ears, his nose alone would have told him he was smelling the tart-but-sweet wire grass and plump strawberries that had been sitting in the warm sunlight.

 

“How did you do that?” Ren asked as the witch approached him with a cup, having deposited one on the table in front of his brother and carrying one for himself. “Just by pouring water into a cup?”

“I make my own blends of tea,” Clan explained happily, content to sit beside the wildling on the floor. “Using what I gather or barter for, I dry the various ingredients and mix them together to create unique tastes and smells. This one is ‘summer afternoon’.”

“It’s accurate,” the wildling agreed with a nod, looking down at the pink-hued tea for a moment before lifting the cup to his face to breathe in the fragrant steam. “I can’t say that I’ve ever drank an idea before, but...that’s what this is, isn’t it? Or more like a memory of a certain moment in time?”

“I spend a lot of time outside, so I had hoped to capture a bit of that natural ‘magic’ in a form I could enjoy whenever I liked,” the witch hummed, face rosy as he basked in the chance to show off his work to a fresh audience. “And what better time for a sip of summer than during a bitter winter storm?”

 

It was hard to argue with that, Ren closing his eyes as he curled his clawed hands around the warmth of the cup and let himself drift into the vision of summer Clan had somehow managed to invoke using just boiling water and dried plants. So enthralled, he sat in silence for several minutes before a gentle hand on his shoulder nearly made him jump, blinking at the long-haired witch who only chuckled and pointed to his cup.

 

“Best to drink it before it goes cold, or it loses its spark,” he warned, rising from the floor to take his own, emptied cup to the basin. “I’ll fix you a bowl to snack on once you’re settled in for the night.”

“You’re not going to make me sleep on the floor, are you?” Ren asked, turning in order to aim the question at the other witch still seated at the table.

“I would never hear the end of it,” Hux sighed, handing over his own cup as Clan passed by. “No, there is a spare room we keep that has an extra bed that you are free to use.”

“Bed…” the wildling repeated the word, searching his memories of human furniture and settling on what he could remember. “The...table with the soft padding and blankets? I don’t know…”

“Not to worry, the bed sits high enough from the floor that the space underneath is cozy and dark,” Clan said with a knowing sort of glint in his eyes that made Ren wonder exactly how much the two brothers knew about wildlings. “You can nest down there, the fireplace in the room should keep it warm as well.”

“That sounds acceptable,” Ren ventured, slowly picking himself up from the floor, tea still in hand. A wary eye cast down to it again, unsure of actually drinking the pink liquid.

 

As if sensing his hesitation, the long-haired witch returned to him and laughed softly, relieving him of the cup for a moment to take a sip of it himself, flinching faintly at the temperature. Fingers tapped out a spell against the side and once more, the tea began to steam with warmth, though not with the intensity of the boiling kettle.

 

“There, back to an acceptable heat,” he concluded, returning the drink to the wildling with a smile that crinkled his soft eyes. “Some teas _do_ taste good cold, but this isn’t one of them. Best finish it before I have Hux show you upstairs.”

“Wait, _what_ ?” the other witch blurted, looking over with a scowl. “Why would I do that? He’s _your_ guest, as far as I’m concerned.”

“Because _I’m_ quite tired and need to retire for the night,” Clan huffed, leaving Ren’s side to fetch a bowl down from a shelf. “Your room is closest to the spare one, anyway, so it’s convenient for you.”

“I don’t need to be shown anywhere, I can just sleep by the fire down here,” the wildling protested, wilting faintly as the long-haired witch cut him a sharp look before turning his attention back to filling the bowl with several bits of fruit and a handful of roasted nuts.

“As I _said_ , Hux will show you to the spare room, no one is sleeping by the fire like a huntsman’s hound,” Clan insisted, his brother rolling his eyes.

“We get it, Clan, for the gods’ sakes,” the other witch grumbled, running a hand through his hair with a scowl. “You become so irritable after you over-exert yourself, brother…”

 

Grimacing at the pair butting heads over him yet again, Ren decided to busy himself with drinking his reheated tea, ears perking with a surprised noise that embarrassingly devolved into an uncontrollable purring in his throat as if he were a cat. Whatever was in the witch’s tea, it tasted exactly like summertime: despite the season containing so many components, here it was boiled down into a drinkable form. Ears drooping, he tipped the cup back and hastily swallowed the rest, wandering over to place it in the basin as he had watched Clan do previously.

Pleased as could be, the witch turned to the wildling and placed the bowl into his clawed hands before leaning up to gently kiss Ren’s brow. The gesture left him speechless, watching dumbly as Clan grinned and wandered off, gone from view around the corner without so much as one of the floorboards creaking under his weight. Hux, meanwhile, picked himself up from the table with a yawn, several of his joints protesting with various crackles and pops.

 

“Let’s be done with this, then,” he grumbled, gesturing for Ren to follow him.

“Will you remove the spells in the morning?” the wildling asked, standing by the fire still with the bowl in his hands and for a moment, the witch thought him to look like a lost and confused child; it was obnoxiously endearing.

“As long as you remain under my roof, I must insist on them, I’m afraid,” he sighed, expression making an attempt to show that he didn’t enjoy the fact. “But as soon as the storm passes and the sun rises, we will turn you loose: well-rested, fed, and curse-free.”

 

Ren flicked his tail in vague annoyance before finally giving a nod of acceptance and followed after Hux, glancing over his shoulder as they went to watch as all the various fires and candles either dimmed or extinguished altogether in their wake. His eyes adjusted easily to the gloom, thankful for it after having spent odd hours indoors during the night. The witch led them up a spiraling staircase that wound its way around the trunk of the ancient willow that grew up through the center of their cottage, quietly marveling at the fact that the structure caused the tree no harm and each existed in harmony. The stairs deposited them in a hallway, down which the witch walked briskly, eager to put the wildling in the spare room so he could get to bed himself.

 

“It was kind of you to let me stay,” Ren finally said after several minutes of silence, looking up from his bowl of unseasonal treats to tilt his head as his brows knit together. “I know that our paths crossed...poorly, and you’ve no obligation to offer me your hospitality, so...I suppose I feel the need to express my gratitude.”

“You’ve mostly Clan to thank for that, honestly,” Hux admitted with a shrug, but there was a playfulness in his tone that left the wildling with the impression of being teased. “He has a soft spot for wildlings, I should have expected nothing less.”

“Expected him to offer me shelter from a storm?”

“Something like that,” the witch laughed, the sound a bright note that Ren found that he quite liked. “Here, this is your room for the night.”

 

Pausing at a closed door with a crescent moon painted onto it, Hux pushed it inward and stood aside to let Ren inside. It was a simple space, holding only a bed, a table with a chair beneath the window, and a fireplace that flickered to life as they entered. But with a wave of his hand, the witch willed the flames to settle into a faint glow in their logs, giving off a pleasant heat but keeping the room blessedly dim. On the bed were several down pillows and fur blankets and, as Clan had explained, the piece of furniture sat high enough from the floor that Ren could nest beneath it comfortably if he wished. Still, even though he wasn’t about to tell either of the witches, he would likely never get the chance again to test out human furniture...what harm would it do to at least try to sleep on it as they did?

 

“Well, I’ll leave you to it. The pitcher on the table has water to drink if you need it,” Hux hummed, remaining in the doorway as the wildling explored the room. “One of us will fetch you in the morning to escort you back downstairs.” 

“Why would I need to be escorted?” Ren asked, peering over at the witch suspiciously, the feeling only growing as he was met with a sly grin.

“The house has a mind of her own, you see, and she’s only just met you. If you tried to find your way on your own, I dare say she might play a few tricks on you.”

“Your house is alive? How?”

“Magic,” the witch said simply with a wink. “Goodnight, Ren.”

 

Without waiting for a response, Hux was back out into the hallway and the door clicked shut softly behind him, Ren standing in the center of the room with his bowl and a perplexed look on his face. The more time he spent around the witches, the less he felt he knew about the world in which he lived, shaking his head with a heavy sigh. Moving at last to sit on the edge of the bed, the cushion on the wooden frame felt comfortably soft beneath him and knowing he would be able to hear someone entering the room, Ren was confident that he could rest in peace with no fear of being ambushed. Taking up one of the plump strawberries from the bowl, he turned it this way and that in the low light of the fire while admiring the deep red color, listening to the wind whistling shrilly just beyond the window.

Despite the strangeness of all that had transpired and the vaguely hostile nature of at least one of his hosts, the wildling couldn’t help but to admit---if just to himself---that he _did_ like it here. The house was warm, far more comfortable than the drafty cave his pack huddled themselves together in during the winters, and it held an untold wealth of other benefits he had yet to experience. It was a flame and he was a moth, an idea that had been woven through his thoughts as the night had gone on.

 

“Don’t get too familiar,” he sighed to himself, popping the bit of fruit into his mouth before curling himself up around the bowl on top of the blankets, clutching it close as if it were a precious treasure even as his eyes grew heavy and fluttered shut. “There’s no place here for a wildling…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience waiting for this chapter, life has been kicking me around a bit and I've found it difficult to get any creative work finished during this time. Your support and feedback keep me going, I just wanted to let you know that it is greatly appreciated!


	5. Glamour Trap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strange, forboding dreams are never a good sign of things to come. But if only they were the least of Ren's worries...
> 
> Seems the witches have not been quite so honest with him, after all.

Howling winter winds in the waking-world soon became the warning cries of phantom wolves in the wildling’s dreams. Ren found himself in an unfamiliar forest with ashen, thin-trunked trees that seemed to reach up into the starless sky itself, the ground blanketed in white snow. The barren branches rattled against one another in the cutting gales, leaving Ren squinting with an arm raised to try to protect his blistered face. Heart racing in his chest, he did not know where he was going, but his legs took him deeper and deeper, the wolves growing louder, more urgent.   
  


‘ _Bewaaaaaare!_ ’ they seemed to sing.

 

But Ren ignored them, gritting his teeth as he trudged onward, into the wind. Further along the path his legs had taken him to, the previously virgin snow was sprinkled with a trail of nuts. Ignoring these as well, the wildling only paused when he glanced down and spotted a strawberry. Squinting at the small pinprick of red in a sea of white and black, he crouched down to pick it up. Wasn’t this the strawberry he had eaten in the witches’ home? That’s right, he was asleep in one of their spare beds after drinking a cup of tea and eating one of the berries Clan had given to him. So, this was a dream? It wasn’t often that he had them, let alone realized that he was in the middle of one. Maybe it was from spending too much time around the witches…   
  


‘ _Fool, fool!_ ’ chimed an owl from some hidden bough high above his head.

 

“Shut up, you useless things!” he snapped, though it was hardly audible over the storm that raked the dream-wood.   
  


The chill had begun to sink into his bones when he reached a clearing, standing at the treeline with his breath caught in his throat. At the center of the empty space grew a vast willow, the branches tossed into a chaotic tangle by the wind. It looked like the one that grew at the heart of the witches’ home, but in his dream, there was no building. In fact, there was no sign of either of the brothers, leaving Ren with a fleeting worry for their whereabouts that was interrupted by the shriek of a raven as it swooped down at his head. Barely ducking beneath its arc, the wildling dropped into a crouch and growled low as the bird landed on one of the tree’s gnarled roots, blinking beady eyes at him before raising its voice at him again.

  
  


‘ _Hatee-hatee-ho,_

_A wildling in the snow!_ ’

 

“What are you, a poet?! What do you want?!” he snarled at the bird, which only puffed up and continued.

 

‘ _Gering-ding-ding,_

_ What a foolish thing! _

_ Jacha-chacha-chow, _

_ Far too late for him now! _

_ A-hee-ahee ha-hee, _

_Soon the truth he will see!_ ’

 

“Cease your infernal noise, bird, or I’ll break your neck!” Ren warned, stalking toward the tree to make good on the threat.   
  


But just as he was within pouncing range, it took wing with cruel, scratchy laughter, spiraling up through the air until it too melted into the abyss above the trees. Staring skyward as long as he could stand to, Ren finally sought refuge beneath the willow where the raven had just been, tucking himself into a hollow between the roots and held the strawberry close to his chest. It was a dream, of _course_ a raven would come and spout nonsense at him, it wasn’t meant to mean anything. Yet, the words echoed through his thoughts still as he listened to the tree’s branches groaning in the unrelenting wind. What was he meant to beware?

 

Suddenly, the world dropped out from beneath him and Ren sat up with a sharp gasp, a fur blanket falling away from him as he did. Panting for breath, he could still feel the ice in his hair and the wind whipping across his face, but after a moment the sensation dimmed and the wildling realized that he was back in the waking world. Looking up from where he sat, he couldn’t tell how long he had been asleep, the window covered with a thick fabric that looked thick enough to block out noonday sunlight and the logs in the fireplace were apparently imbued with magic so as to not burn themselves out. Shifting to swing his legs off the bed in order to stand up, the wildling startled faintly as various nuts spilled onto the floor, wondering if they had somehow followed him from his dreams before having to snort at himself. Of course not, they were the nuts from the bowl Clan had given him and he had simply fallen asleep with it still on the bed.

 

Grimacing at the mess, Ren carefully picked each one up to place back in the bowl, which he decided was better off sitting on the table beside the pitcher of water for now. Bracing himself just in case, he narrowed his eyes and drew the curtain away from the window and sighed in relief when he discovered that the sun was only just beginning to rise. Padding back over to the bed, the wildling made an attempt to set the blankets and pillows back in some semblance of order, smoothing them out with care not to snag his claw on anything. Besides the odd dream he had just woken from, Ren had slept soundly, the bed having been quite comfortable. It would surely be a fun story to tell the others when he was free of the witches’ house...yet, the eagerness to leave felt forced, a part of him knowing he would miss it once he was gone.

 

Huffing with a shake of his head, he strode to the door and opened it, but the hallway...well, it certainly wasn’t the one he had come down the night before. Brows knitting together, he leaned out---still keeping hold of the doorframe---and studied the space. This hallway wasn’t the straight one Hux had lead him down, but curved, more rooms just out of sight further along. And the stairs should have been within view, but now there was no sign of them. Hux’s words came back to him and he scowled. Great, more magical chaos he had to wade through to secure his freedom. While Ren knew he had been instructed that one of the brothers would come to fetch him, he wasn’t tired enough to go back to sleep and would rather stretch his legs than to sit around waiting for someone to ‘rescue’ him. So the wildling shut the door behind himself and set off in the direction he thought should have been approximately in line with what he remembered from the night before.

 

As Ren padded along lazily, he marveled as the various candles in the lamps that adorned the walls flickered to life at his approach, even gutting their flames into a dimmer glow as if to accommodate his sensitivity to brighter lights. Between the lamps, the wildling discovered countless tapestries and works of art, the occasional bookcase or table with artifacts, and various pieces of furniture for sitting on. Passing by countless closed doors---which he stopped trying to open after finding the first five or so to be locked---Ren knew he should have long since reached the stairwell by now, but there were no signs of it, the hall still curved and showing no signs of straightening out or any sort of branches to go in a different direction.

 

Unsure of how long he wandered, Ren finally came to a stop in front of a familiar door. He recognized the crescent moon painted onto it but he raised a brow when he examined it more closely. Sure enough, he realized why it didn’t look quite right: it was upside down. Not the painting but the door itself. He reached out for the knob and hesitated for just a moment before he took a deep breath and turned it, pushing it inward. Somehow, it wasn’t just the door that was upside down but the entire room itself. Ren stepped inside onto what was previously the ceiling, hair standing up on the back of his neck at the strangeness. He realized then just how serious Hux had been about the house being alive...she was clearly playing with him.

  
  


“It’s been awhile since she’s flipped a room.”   
  


 

Ren nearly jumped out of his skin, cursing under his breath with ears pinned back against his head, rounding on the unexpected figure standing in the doorway. But after the shock wore off, he offered a huff and a slight half-smile to see it was Clan, long copper hair a fluffy, sleep-tousled mess still and a sleepiness in his soft eyes. The witch must have just gotten up, as he wasn’t even dressed yet, leaving Ren staring openly at his slim figure, pale skin splashed with freckles to match his hair and wearing only a pair of cloth shorts that hung low on his bony hips. Blinking, Clan raised a brow as he realized that the wildling hadn’t said anything in his distraction, feeling his cheeks begin to warm a bit but he chuckled; it was flattering.

 

“I...um, I was trying to find the stairs,” Ren finally murmured, meeting the witch’s eyes as he rubbed at the back of his neck with a clawed hand. “I just ended up back here, but it was turned wrong-way up.”

 

“I had hoped Hux would warn you,” Clan sighed, shaking his head with a bemused grin.

 

“In his defense, he _did_ ,” the wildling said with a shrug. “I woke from a strange dream and wanted to stretch my legs. He also told me the house is alive?”

 

“Oh yes, very,” the witch confirmed with a nod. “You no doubt saw the great willow at the heart of our home?”

 

“Hard to miss it.”

 

“That’s her! She was here long before us and agreed to give us a home,” Clan explained, rubbing at one of his eyes to free it of the last cobwebs of sleep. “Her roots run through the walls and under the floors. The stronger and older she gets, the larger our house can grow. In fact, we’re well overdue to ask her to add on a new section, but we can’t quite agree on what. Hux has argued for an observatory tower, but I would really like to have a large dining hall.”

 

“A large dining hall...why? You have your kitchen, right?” Ren asked, head tilted to the side as he wandered closer to the witch. “Is that not enough of a space to eat in?”

 

“Oh, well, that works when there’s only Hux and I,” he agreed with a soft smile. “But if we ever had a lot of guests all at once, I hardly know where we’d put them.”

 

“Do you expect to get that many visitors anytime soon way out here in the wood?”

 

“I’ve seen it in the bones,” Clan replied simply. “It’s just a matter of time.”

 

“You saw it in the... _bones_?” the wildling repeated, a brow raised.

 

“Come, let’s head downstairs and I’ll show you how it works,” offered the witch, a hand reaching out toward Ren, palm held upward and his expression that of kind expectation. “ _And_ I’ll fix us something for breakfast before Hux has a chance to shoo you off.”

  
  


Staring at the hand, it took him longer than he would have liked to realize that Clan wanted to lead him physically out of the room and down to the main floor, his cheeks warming just a bit as he found himself laying his clawed fingers into the curve of the witch’s palm. Closing surprisingly rough yet slim digits around Ren’s, Clan gave the faintest squeeze before tugging him along into the hallway.   
  


“Do you prepare all the meals?” he found himself asking after a minute of companionable silence.

 

“Believe me when I say that my brother is not allowed in the kitchen unless it’s to help with the dishes or to sit at the table,” Clan laughed, glancing back over his shoulder at the wildling. “Even with magic, he can burn water. But that’s alright, I enjoy it. My strengths are his weaknesses, and his are mine. We work well together.”

 

“You look so alike, yet you are both quite different,” Ren hummed, looking down at their joined hands with a thoughtful expression. “You could almost pass for an elf, but your hands show a side of you I hadn’t expected. Rough skin, callus in some spots from use...you do a lot of physical work.”

 

“I do,” the witch confirmed with a pleased hum, pace slowing as the hallway began to straighten out at last and an opening lay ahead with the previously missing stairwell. “Hux thinks it’s silly, but I prefer to grow all of the plants in our gardens by hand. I feel more of a connection to nature if I actually get my hands dirty. We had a competition once, to see who could grow the largest starry moonmelon: me with my traditional ways and Hux with his various spellbooks and enchantments.”

 

“Who won?”

 

Clan reluctantly let go of Ren’s hand and began his descent, fingers trailing delicately along the curve of the banister that seemed to grow out of the willow itself.

 

“ _That_ depends on your definition,” the witch chuckled. “While my melon was arguably large and edible, Hux’s was three times the size...but gained sentience and ran off into the woods on spindly vine-legs before we could get a proper measurement. It might still be lurking around out there, in fact, so do be on the lookout.”

 

Blinking at the absurdity of that particular image, Ren gave a snort and actually laughed, the witch waiting at the bottom of the stairs for him with bright eyes and a fond smile. The expression gave the wildling pause, ears perking upright as he studied clan’s reaction.

 

“What?” he finally huffed, which only made the other smile more, teeth an unnatural white and for a brief moment, they looked sharper than they ought to.

 

“That’s the first time I’ve heard you laugh,” Clan said, eyes crinkling. “I like it.”

  
  


Without another word, the witch turned and padded off toward the kitchen, leaving his guest to stand in bewildered silence before remembering that it was in his best interest not to be far from either of the brothers while still inside the house and ambled after him. Something about how those deep blue eyes---so much softer than his brother’s steely green---looked into his had Ren’s ribs full of butterflies, yet he couldn’t shake the primal sensation that left his hair sticking up at the back of his neck and along his arms every time Clan smiled like that. The voices of his dream echoed quietly through his thoughts and Ren entertained them briefly before spotting Clan pulling a small tin box down from a shelf that left him needing to stand on the tips of his toes to reach and the adorable image convinced him it had been nothing more than a silly dream.

  
  


“Couldn’t you just use magic to get that?” he asked, coming up behind the witch in order to peer down over his shoulder.

 

“Where’s the fun in making everything too easy?” Clan replied, looking up to catch the wildling’s gaze with a wink as he thumbed open the tiny box.

  
  


Inside was a bit of red silk, which the witch carefully unfolded to reveal a set of four, perfectly-white knuckle bones that looked to the wildling as having come from a deer. Reaching inside the tin with one hand, the ginger man gestured with the other for Ren to follow as he moved to sit by the warmth of the fire, whispering to the flames briefly until they changed to a deep blue-green that was easier on his eyes. The little act of thoughtfulness was something Ren found both endearing and confusing, considering that he had only just met Clan yesterday.

  
  


“Tell me, Ren, have you ever seen human children play a game called gobs?” the witch asked, sitting cross-legged in front of the wildling, back to the fire.

 

“Gobs...I haven’t heard the term,” he admitted, finding himself distracted by how the low light of the fire still seemed to make the other’s hair glow golden. “What is it?”

 

“They gather quartz stones from the beach---usually five or so---and have made a game of casting them on the ground and gathering them up again,” Clan continued, setting the tin beside him on the floor as he cupped the four bones carefully in a hand. “For them, it’s just a game to pass the time, to have fun, but I’ve always found it interesting because it is based on a form of divination that predates most of their kingdoms. A wonder how little they know of their pasts...ah, but I digress. Let me teach you how to read the bones.”

  
  


Clan set each bone on the floor between himself and Ren in a neat line, making sure that each was turned a particular way, no two bones positioned the same. Ren leaned down and forward slightly to watch, seeing only what they were at face value, unsure of how anyone could possibly ‘read’ anything from them. The witch looked up and saw the wildling’s almost grim, studious expression and chuckled with a soft smile.

  
  


“There are four sides to the knuckle bone, each given a name and a value,” the witch hummed, tapping the first bone with a finger. “The two sides that curve outward, like this one, are considered ‘lucky’. This one is ‘horse’ and it is the luckiest side to roll. The other is ‘sheep’.”

  
  


Moving his finger across the first two, Clan stopped it on the third bone, tapping it lightly.   
  


 

“This is ‘camel’, one of the sides with an indentation. The other is ‘goat’, the most ‘unlucky’ outcome. By clearing my thoughts and the space around me, I am able to ask a question I seek council for and toss the bones,” the witch further explained, gathering the four bones back into his palm before closing his fingers around them, giving the set a few shakes. “One of each side is the highest sign of good fortune, but beyond that, it becomes an equation. If I roll two horses, a sheep, and a camel, the situation I have asked about is more likely to have a positive outcome. Two or more of the camels or goats, the situation will likely end poorly.”

  
“All of that comes from the bones?” Ren asked, his brows raised. A flicker of wonder shines in his dark eyes that absolutely thrill the witch.

 

“Not from, necessarily, but _through_ ,” Clan corrected, holding the bones still again in his palm, plucking out one to hand over to the wildling. “I’m not influencing them, nor do they alter anything, they simply tell me what is or what is not likely to be. Nothing is set in stone save for the cycle of life and death, of course, so it’s merely a tool to be used when considering your options.”

  
  


Accepting the bone, Ren turned it over between his fingers, trying to recall what each side was and what they meant. Fortune-telling seemed far less impressive to him now that he had learned that at least this form of it was moreso just for advising rather than predicting things precisely.

  
  


“Would you like to ask that bone a question? A simple one, since you’re only going to roll the one,” the witch offered, expression bright and eager. “Anything you want.”

 

“I...suppose,” the wildling muttered, uncertain, looking to Clan again for guidance. “Do I say it aloud or..?”

 

“You don’t need to, no, it knows the question regardless,” the other urged, gesturing for Ren to toss the bone when he was ready.

  
  


Pondering over the opportunity, Ren imagined it was best not to waste it on frivolous things, reminding himself yet again that this experience would be little more than a dream once he was free of the other witch’s spells and back with his pack. An intriguing, unexpected dream that part of him loathed to wake from, but such things did not last. So, with a sigh, he closed his eyes and let himself ask the question weighing heaviest on his chest. Jiggling the bone in his palm as he had watched the witch do, the wildling finally cast it gently to the wooden floor, watching with held breath as it bounced a few times, tumbled over itself, and finally came to rest.

  
  


“What...does _that_ mean?” he asked, brows coming together as he squinted.

 

Clan also looked a bit dumbfounded, leaning over the bone with his palms on the floor, ginger hair spilling over his shoulders and into his face. Somehow Ren had managed to land it in a crack between two beams, showing a side that the witch had not identified but it was clearly something of note, as he grinned from ear to ear as he looked up at the wildling.

  
  


“That’s ‘cow’!” he laughed, sitting up properly again with sparkling eyes. “I had nearly forgotten it existed, it’s so rare!”

 

“It is? Is that...good, or bad?”

 

“Neither, really, but a strong message all the same,” the witch practically giggled. “It tells me that the answer to the question you asked is simple: strange things happen that you can’t control, but in the end, only you can decide what path you’ll walk. Now I’m curious to know what it was that you asked…”

 

“Should I tell you?” Ren offered, but Clan shook his head, reaching up to tuck a stray, copper lock behind his ear.

 

“Best not, there’s no real ‘rule’ about it, but I feel like it might be something you’d rather keep to yourself,” the witch replied, picking up the bone to hand it back to the wildling. “Keep it. A gift from me to you, it will bring you luck.”

 

“A gift of luck, huh? Could have used that last night before the storm,” Ren chuckled with a lopsided grin. “I don't really have anything to offer in return, though, and now your set is incomplete.”

  
  


Staring at the wildling with wide, watery blue eyes that seemed on the verge of spilling tears at any given moment, Clan couldn't help but to blush a rosy pink to see the unreasonably charming expression Ren was making. He was a mysterious, handsome creature and the witch had felt a strong thrum in his chest anytime they were close that drew his attention, a silent call he felt in his bones. Chewing at his lower lip, Clan lay his hands on the floor again and looked down at the three bones, copper hair hiding his expression as he drummed his nails against the wooden floor.

  
  


“Well, you _do_ have something I would like,” the witch hummed, peeking up through a gap in his hair with a coy grin that left Ren looking taken aback.

 

“I, um…” the wildling stammered, feeling his face heat up fiercely at the odd flicker in those doe-like eyes. “I do?”

  
  


Before he could consider the situation, Ren startled as Clan crawled closer until he could place his hands on the wildling’s muscled thighs, raising himself up until the tips of their noses just touched. Up close, the witch’s eyes were mesmerizing, a depth of blue he had only heard of in stories of the deep sea, knowing he would drown in them if he didn’t look away...and found it terrifying that he would be okay with that, presently. Unable to help it, a clawed hand raised to tuck a lock of Clan’s hair away from his face, brows knit as he tried to make sense of the sudden invasion of his space, not that he minded. It was just...odd.

  
  


“All I ask in return is a kiss,” the witch finally spoke, his voice a rich honey as he smiled playfully, mischief flashing through his gaze like lightning.

 

“I suppose that sounds reasonable enough, but--?” Ren began, but the rest of his question was smothered by Clan’s lips as he pressed them to Ren’s with a bemused hum.

  
  


Wildlings did not generally participate in such gestures, but he was familiar enough with them from his observations of the humans in the nearby kingdom. They came as an expression of affection, of love, and of lust, and as he dwelled on how achingly soft the witch’s lips were---like the skin of a ripe peach, and nearly as sweet---Ren felt his heart begin to race like a frightened bird in his chest. What reason did Clan have? It would be a simple thing to push the man away from him now that he had gotten what he wanted, but as the witch shifted as if to pull away, the wildling pressed a hand at the back of his head to keep him close.

  
  


“You taste like danger,” Clan chuckled, breaking from the kiss to breathe with a grin, licking his lips.

 

“And _you_ taste like summer,” was Ren’s reply, brows knitting in confusion as he tried not to be distracted by the flick of the witch’s tongue. “Why?”

 

“Why do I taste like summer?”

 

“Why kiss me?”

 

“Why not?” the witch teased, earning a faint growl of frustration from the wildling.

 

“Isn’t it... _wrong_ , or at the least frowned upon?”

 

“To kiss a wildling? Maybe to a human, but we don’t have many of those out here in the wood,” Clan scoffed with a roll of his eyes. “Humans don’t look favorably upon my kind, either, so I should think that it would be worse to kiss one than to kiss you.”

 

“ _I_ didn’t like witches before, you know…” Ren admitted, but it only made the witch smile fondly. “But I never really thought that there was a difference between a human and a witch.”

 

“But you’ve used past-tense, there, haven’t you? Perhaps we’ve changed your opinion of us.”

 

“I suppose _you_ have been pleasant enough, but I don’t think your brother likes me.”

 

“Hux doesn’t like _anyone_ ,” Clan snickered, drumming his fingers against the wildling’s legs as he lingered close. “Least of all anyone I happen to fancy.”

 

“You, ah... _fancy_ me?” Ren blurted, blinking rapidly at the confession, ears flicking upright. “But, I don’t really understand, we aren’t alike.”

 

“They say opposites attract, you know.”

 

“No, not like _that_ , I mean...you’re basically a human, right? Just with magic?”

 

“Hardly,” Clan scoffed, smile faltering slightly. “Does it bother you? That I look human?”

 

“I wouldn’t say that it bothers me, but, it’s...strange,” the wildling tried to explain, looking equal parts apologetic and lost. “Wildlings, we’re creatures of the wood. Humans are not, and you...even if you seem different because of your magic and how you live, you could still pass as one if it suited you.”

 

“Would it be better for you if I were a wildling, then?” the witch asked with a sincerity that made Ren’s heart ache. “You didn’t seem to mind my kiss, after all, and I do notice that you haven’t moved your hand from holding me here, Ren.”

 

“It was...nice, yeah,” Ren agreed, gaze flitting across the witch’s features, trying to find answers to the madness he found himself floundering in.

  
  


Clan didn’t make matters any better when he took his offer to heart and sat back slightly on his knees to concentrate, eyes closing. Unknowingly, Ren had given him more than just a kiss, but a momentary connection to the essence of what a wildling was, and the witch called upon that new knowledge to alter his very form. As when he had become a fox, golden flames of his magic flicked across his body, the wildling at first alarmed he would be burned by them in such close proximity, but they did not burn at all. Speechless as he watched, he felt the change in the witch’s hands on his legs as his nails grew, hardening into black claws with which he was far more familiar.

 

When the shimmering flames finally snuffed out, Clan opened his eyes to look at Ren expectantly, grinning brightly when he saw the wildling was practically gaping. It wasn’t as drastic as seeing a human turn into a fox, but the witch had now managed to mirror the wildling’s physiology and...he was beautiful. Boasting copper and cream colored fur, a large, bushy fox’s tail waved idly behind him as he tested out the pointed ears atop his head.

  
  


“This is just an illusion, right?” Ren managed to croak, mouth having gone horribly dry as he continued to unabashedly stare at the sight before him.

 

“A temporary alteration of my form, but as real as you are,” Clan replied, cocking his head to one side as he studied the wildling. “Gods, but I don’t know if I want to go back...I can hear your heartbeat. I can smell...well, it’s hard to describe _what_ it is, but I know it’s you. Everything is so much brighter and my senses are--”

  
  


Ren didn’t really care much for whatever further observations the witch was going to make, his hand pulling him close again until their lips crashed together in a far more insistent kiss that he initiated this time. The wildling was a clumsy disaster, having never done so before now, but he could do little else now that he was drowning in the other’s overpowering scent. In addition to altering his body, it seemed that Clan had actually been able to perfectly mimic a wildling, right down to their distinctive musks. As unique to each wildling as the whirls on their fingertips, the witch gave off a spicy aroma that reminded Ren of the tea he had made the previous night, a creature seemingly born out of the sunlight cast down onto a patch of strawberries. Clawed fingers tangled into silken copper hair as he tried to calm himself, but Clan was all but on top of him now and his hands had drifted to holding either side of the true wildling’s neck.

 

Growling low in his throat, Ren pulled at the witch’s locks and shoved at a shoulder with the other hand to roll him onto his back, the wildling looming over Clan as he moved to pin the other’s wrists to the floor while panting for breath.

  
  


“We can’t,” he said weakly, frowning at himself for it.

 

“Can’t and shouldn’t are _very_ different things,” Clan protested with a huff, wiggling his hips playfully beneath the wildling. “Why shouldn’t we?”

  
  


To that, Ren had no good answer, especially considering the wildfire growing in his veins at the sight of Clan beneath him, breathless and flushed. In truth, he wanted nothing more than to devour the witch on the spot, making good on the promise his knuckle bone had spoken to him of choosing his own path. Perhaps he was meant to steal this man away back to the wood, back to his pack. There was much they could learn from him, surely, and he clearly had the spirit of a wildling, even if his form did not always match. What was stopping him, then, from doing just that? What reason was there to not simply lean down to---

  
  


“ _Good gods_ , it is too early in the morning for this.”

  
  


Freezing in place, a breath away from pressing a bite to Clan’s neck, Ren’s eyes widened as a sharp chill washed over his spine. It wasn’t just the heat of the moment he had been experiencing, but the clouding warmth of the tranquility curse as Hux had made his way downstairs and found them in the kitchen. Hands uncurling from around the witch’s delicate wrists, the wildling sat up slowly and moved so that Clan could pick himself up as well, glancing to the other witch briefly before looking anywhere but, feeling his steely eyes boring into him with disapproval.

 

While it would have been easy to assume that the look had to do with having found Ren straddling his brother's hips first thing after waking, the truth was something Hux held fiercely inside behind an empty expression. He had actually made his way down from his room some minutes past after finding Ren's room empty---and upside down---and no sign of Clan. Descending the stairs, the witch gave a pause as a particularly strong scent all but struck him, brows creasing with a scowl as he strode along more quickly. Soon enough, he realized it was a mixture of two different musks as he began to pick up snippets of conversation, a shadow crossing his features as Hux came to stand just around the corner from the kitchen. It had been his intention to storm in and break the pair up immediately, something made him pause, even going so far as to peer around the edge of the wall.

 

Seeing Clan kissing Ren, it left Hux with a sour taste in his mouth, heart throbbing in his chest. It was wrong, that much he knew, the two of them together like this...yet, against all sense of reason, he was able to recognize the creeping venom threatening to poison him against his own kin:

**_Envy._ **

Those lips should be pressed to _his_ , black claws tangled into _his_ short, orange hair. He wanted to know what the weight of the wildling felt like pressed against _him_ , the heat of his body, the sound of his ragged breathing beside _his_ ear and---

 

Gritting his teeth, Hux shoved his thoughts---and, gods save him, his _feelings_ \---on that particular subject back into the farthest corner of his mind before steadying himself to step around the corner and interrupted the two before they could go any further.

  
  


“Your timing is impeccable, brother,” Clan grumbled, rubbing at the back of his neck with a pout.

 

“It seems I arrived just in time to stop you making a rather regretful decision,” Hux muttered back, nose wrinkling at them before gesturing for Ren to rise from where he sat. “The storm has passed and the sun is rising, you have stayed long enough, I think.”

  
  


Looking to Clan with a frown, regret leaving him hollowed out inside, the wildling rose to his feet and scowled down at the other witch as his tail flicked in annoyance. Unimpressed as always, Hux reached out and placed his bare palm against Ren’s chest, pulling---perhaps a bit too unkindly this time---at the framework of the curse within until he had wrenched it free, shaking the residual spark from his hand with great distaste. The cold that followed twisted the wildling’s stomach into knots, glad that they hadn’t quite gotten around to eating anything after all.

  
  


“The curse is gone, and so should you be,” Hux stated, arms lacing together behind his back as he managed to look down on Ren even at his shorter stature. “Your pack will be expecting you, I’m sure.”

 

“Gladly,” Ren growled sourly, stalking off a few paces toward the front hall before stopping as something occurred to him. “Hold. The _curse_ is gone, you said?”

 

“I should think that obvious to even you, wildling,” the witch snorted.

 

“Our agreement is only met if you also removed the ability to track me,” Ren stated, turning to face Hux with a stormy expression.

 

“ _Actually_ , I’m afraid that isn’t true,” Hux hummed, a cruel smile turning up the corners of his lips, eyes alight with a mischief similar to that which his brother’s had shown. “My exact words were ‘I’ll undo the curse once you bring me the Prince’, and then you took my hand. This was our agreement, and with the removal of the curse, all terms have been met.”

 

“You...lied.”

 

“ _You_ didn’t pay attention, that’s hardly of my concern.”

  
  


Cold fury began to boil beneath the surface as Ren stared the witch down, hands curling into trembling fists at his side. He didn’t care what Hux said, the witch had known that the wildling would want both magical ties undone and purposefully altered his wording to exclude the rune he could use to track him down. With it still in place, it meant the man could find him wherever he went, putting his pack in danger if the whim struck. A slight against himself he could possibly overlook, but endangering his family was unacceptable.

 

“Now, do run along, we have work to do here,” Hux said with a yawn, giving a dismissive gesture toward Ren.

 

“I’ll gut you!” the wildling roared, making to charge the witch with a hand ready to rake across the other’s face.

 

“I’m sorry, Ren!” Clan blurted, clambering awkwardly onto unfamiliar legs like a newborn before putting himself directly in the way with his hands raised toward Ren.

  
  


Before he could stop or even react, the world around him gave a heave and he blacked out for just a moment. When his vision swam back into focus, Ren found himself outside of the cottage in the field, feet growing wet as he stood in the snow. Snarling furiously, he reached down and grabbed the first sizable rock he could find, lobbing it harshly toward the building and was satisfied to hear a pane of glass shatter. 

  
  


“Gods curse you witches! If I _ever_ see you near my pack again, even the vultures won’t touch what remains!” Ren howled before bounding off toward the treeline, looking to put as much distance between himself and the brothers.

  
  


How could he have been so _stupid_? How could he have been so _blind_? The pair had been toying with him from the very start, and now he had delivered them the one creature that might have been preventing an unfit bastard from seizing control of the wood for himself. Shaking his head, the wildling stalked through the underbrush and between the trees, thoughts a maelstrom that threatened to send him into a state of berserker’s rage. He tried to tell himself it didn’t matter, that he didn’t care what happened and that he wanted nothing more to do with magic or witches...but beneath the anger was an ache that only fueled his fury: he had genuinely begun to enjoy their company and the fascinating way they lived. He could never forgive them for tearing that away from him.

  
  
  
  


Back inside the cottage, Clan stooped to pick up the stone that had crashed through one of the kitchen’s windows, frowning sadly with fresh tear tracks on his cheeks. He could still taste the wildling on his lips, heart aching to have seen him so betrayed in his realization that he had been tricked. While his own weavings had been to keep Ren around just a bit longer, it seemed that his brother had intended to make an enemy of the wildling from the start...and for what? Petty revenge over the unicorn?

  
  


“Was that entirely necessary, Hux?” he asked, clutching the stone against his chest as he turned to his brother. “Ren has a good soul and gave you what you’ve been after for years, you could have easily removed that rune.”

 

“An agreement was made, Clan, and I abided by the terms we set,” he replied, looking his brother over with a scowl. “Change out of that ridiculous form, you’re much too old to be playing pretend still.”

 

“Don’t change the subject,” the other witch challenged, expression hardening. “Why did you refuse to remove the rune?”

 

“Any creature strong and resourceful enough to hunt and kill the Prince is one that I want to know the whereabouts of in proximity to myself and my kin. I won’t let some crazed wildling get the best of me, nor tolerate him laying a hand on you like that.”

 

“I was the one who wanted it!” Clan barked, his hand snapping out to strike his brother, but his wrist was easily caught mid-swing. “Gods forbid I find myself interested in someone…”

 

“Let it go, Clan, it’s done,” Hux sighed. “The wildling will go back to where he belongs and we will go on with our lives.”

 

“No he won’t.”

 

“Of course he will, why in the world would he...linger…” Hux trailed off, eyes widening as his brother gave him a sharp smirk. “Oh, you sneaky little shit.”

 

“You so often forget I am just as clever as you,” Clan muttered, yanking free of his brother’s grasp. “I knew you would send him away as soon as you got what you wanted.”

 

“Well-played,” the other witch begrudgingly conceded, looking over his shoulder toward the front of their house as a fearsome banging rose from the door.

  
  


Try as he might, Ren had wandered through the woods and by some form of foul bewitchment, found himself back in the clearing, no matter which direction he took or how fast he had run: all paths brought him back to their cottage.

  
  


“Shall I let our guest in?” Clan hummed as he gathered the knuckle bones from the floor, eyes crinkling in victory as his brother glared at him.

  
  


He should have just killed the wildling the day he found him in that trap...


	6. You Keep What You Kill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clan offers to lead Ren through the shroud of fog that prevents him from leaving their lands, but in doing so, discovers a significant problem with Hux's plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains a sex scene. As with the other chapters with mature/graphic content, I have sectioned it off so you can still read the story without needing to partake in the more explicit parts!

Taking a breath to steady his nerves as much as he could manage, Clan padded through the kitchen and into the hall. The pounding at the door all but matched the heavy throb of his heart, the witch clutching the rock Ren had thrown to his chest like a rope cast to a drowning sailor. He could feel the anger radiating from the wildling, even at a distance...it was almost terrifying.

 

He wanted more.

 

Wisps of golden flame licked across his body as his form once more melted back to normal, a hand reaching out to pull a slip of ivy cloth from the air beside him that he slung around his narrow hips and tied it in place as a makeshift skirt over his sleep shorts. Nearing the door, Clan flinched at a chorus of fresh thumps against the old wood, knowing it would not splinter under the assault but the ferocity left ample room for doubt to take root.

 

“Answer me, you bog-drinking, web-weaving---!” he could hear Ren’s muffled roaring from the other side.

  
“A moment, Ren, please!” the witch pleaded, relieved when the next impact did not come. “It’s me. If you promise not to be too cross, I will come outside and show you the way home.”

 

There was a long pause as the wildling stepped back a pace, grimacing at the dull ache in his hand from his version of knocking. Part of him longed to tear the short-haired witch into ribbons with his claws, but it was overridden in the moment by the sweet taste of the other that still lingered on his lips. Butterflies rising in his stomach once more, Ren gave a low growl in his throat before huffing in defeat.

 

“Why should I need to be lead anywhere in the first place?”

 

“I can explain on the way, but only if you behave,” Clan teased gently with a hopeful smile, a hand lifting to rest against his side of the door.

 

“You’ll forgive my suspicion of entering into any more agreements with your kind,” Ren stated bitterly, tail flicking erratically behind him.

 

“Fair and true,” the witch sighed, shoulders slumping as his smile gutted out. “Unfortunately, though, you will have to overlook it long enough to get back to your pack. Only a few minutes and then you need never see either of us again.”

 

“Is Hux there?”

 

“No, it’s just me,” Clan assured the other, hand falling from the door. “I didn’t imagine you would want to see him.”

 

“You would be correct,” the wildling agreed. “Fine. I won’t do anything, just let me go home.”

 

Reaching out once more, the witch knocked lightly at the door with his knuckles and stepped back as it swung open slowly. Ren perked up faintly at the sight of Clan, though he did not offer a smile, stepping back a few paces to give him room to exit the cottage. Uncertain, especially now that their ruse was up and the curse no longer in place, the witch only hesitated for a moment before stepping over the threshold and onto the porch. Clan stood before Ren for a long moment in painful silence---and after such a wonderful start to their morning, too---before stepping around him to descend the stairs and strode out onto the snowy ground. He could see where the wildling had taken the path that was cleared of traps last evening, but from that point, had taken various others into the forest itself. Ren had been mindful not to tread into the open field for wariness of the danger hidden beneath the snow, instead always circling back to the one safe line each time.

 

No flashy tricks this time, however, as Clan lead the way, his bare feet seemingly unbothered by the cold. Ren easily caught up with the witch with his longer stride, looking down at the man briefly with a slight flinch as he saw the rock he had thrown in his fury in the other's arms.

 

“I'm...I didn't hurt you with that, did I?” he found himself asking awkwardly, but with genuine concern.

 

“No, I wasn't near the window, fortunately, it fell into the basin,” Clan replied quietly, glancing down at the rock he was still cradling to his chest.

 

“Ah, I thought I heard glass breaking,” the wildling said with a somewhat sheepish expression. “I'm glad. That it didn't hit you, I mean…and I suppose I'm sorry for damaging your home. I was angry..”

 

“You've every right to be, Ren,” the witch sighed.

 

“Not with  _ you _ , though, you've done nothing wrong,” Ren protested, nearly crashing into Clan as he stopped suddenly in front of him.

 

“Clan? Are you alright?”

 

“I haven't been quite...honest with you, either,” the witch admitted, looking back over his shoulder with a sullen frown. “I'm the reason you were trapped here in the first place.”

 

“What do you mean? There was a heavy snowstorm,” the wildling snorted. “It's not as if you could have summoned---”

 

Ren trailed off as the other looked away in guilt, propelled back into motion by the turn in conversation.

 

“Oh,” was all Ren could think to add, following after his guide again.

 

“After I slipped out of the ritual chamber with the Prince's hide, I snuck up to the roof,” Clan explained, walking through the trees with little effort, his feet already aware of where they were going. “As my brother is a master of technical magic, my mastery is in the elements. I...asked the clouds to bring us snow.”

 

“Why?” the wildling asked, his voice carrying an edge of disappointment that left the witch wilting, head down with copper hair hiding his face.

 

“I didn't want you to leave us, not so soon,” Clan murmured, turning to glance over at Ren with an apologetic smile. “You were fascinating, I wanted to spend more time with you. But I still worried you might try to go, even with the storm...that you would reconsider the offer to spend the night.”

 

“It would have been rude to refuse your kindness,” the wildling pointed out, though his stomach was in knots the longer the witch spoke.

 

“Yes, and that I also counted upon. I gave you drink and food, without warning you…”

 

“Warn me? You didn’t  _ poison _ me, did you?” Ren asked, half-joking in a dry tone that backfired immediately, as Clan spun on his heel with a horrified look painted across his features.

 

“No, gods, I-I would never!” the witch exclaimed, genuinely stricken to be asked such a thing. “Please, it’s...it’s nothing like that, I just...it was stupid. Horribly stupid and selfish of me.”

 

“Ah, I was…” Ren sputtered with his ears pinned flat against his head, hands raised in a placating manner. “I wasn’t serious. Hux might have been one to poison me, I think, but I never felt any animosity from you.”

 

A temporary relief washed over Clan, letting his breath go in a huff that was accompanied by a slight snuffle from his nose. The witch wiped at his eyes briefly with the back of his hand before looking down at his feet, struggling under the weight of Ren’s trust in him still.

 

“But I still don’t understand,” the wildling prompted gently. “If not poison, what was wrong with giving me the tea and the bowl of fruit and nuts?”

 

“It was wrong because I knew this would happen,” Clan began, turning once more to gesture to the forest ahead. “You came this far out, then there was a thick fog. When you emerged, you were back where you started, at the edge of our clearing.”

 

“That’s...yes, that’s exactly what happened,” Ren confirmed, brows knitting together.

 

“Tell me, Ren,” the witch continued, his gaze returning to the wildling. “What do you know of the fae?”

 

Fae. The word alone sent a chill down the wildling’s spine that left the hairs at the back of his neck standing on end. There were many known things in the world, and the wood was no exception, but the unseen realm of the fae had its own set of rules that all mortal creatures---be they human, beast, or anything in-between---were bound to, even if they were unaware of what those were. Humans told their children stories to warn them, but the true meanings had been lost over time; the wildling knew only what the elders had taught him as a pup.

 

“Not much, I’ve never never so much as even seen a fae,” the wildling answered, the chill seeping into his bones as he looked at Clan. “Or...perhaps that  _ isn’t _ the case. They can take many forms, can’t they?”

 

“They can.”

 

“Even that of a human.”

 

“Yes.”

 

Ren took a step closer to the witch, looming a good head taller than the man when he stood to his full height without slouching. With the wildling’s shadow over him, Clan shrank back slightly, picking anxiously at the fingers of one hand---he really should wear gloves as his brother does, he thinks absently.

 

“The reason you couldn’t leave our land is because you ate and drank from within our home,” the witch finally blurted. “As is one of the binding rules of the fae. I’m sorry for deceiving you.”

 

“That’s... _ that’s _ why you can change your form so readily,” Ren observed, his voice even and expression an unreadable mask as he stared down at the man before him. “You and your brother are tricksters, creatures of the barrow.”

 

“Our mother was a human witch, tricked into bed by our father, a trickster spirit who had become...infatuated,” Clan offered, unnerved by the seemingly calm reaction from the wildling to this revelation. “We inherited a mix of their traits, but are outsiders in both worlds. However, that doesn’t exempt anyone who crosses our path from the rules of the fae.”

 

“Am I to remain here forever, then? You said you would take me home.”

 

“I will. To break free of this rule, I need only give you something to eat from the other side of our boundaries,” the witch assured him. “There is a tree, just beyond the veil of fog. You would not have seen it, but I can. It grows apples, regardless of season. One bite, and you are free.”

 

“Then fetch it,” Ren growled low in his throat, stomach dropping to see how the sound caused the witch to shrink away further before he was off, fleeing into the fog.

 

Silence followed the dull thump of Clan dropping the rock in his haste, his shadow vanishing into the thick wall of vapor. It left Ren to think quietly to himself, pacing slowly along the edge of the barrier that prevented him from escape. How in the world had he come to be caught in such a snare? What gods had he scorned to warrant such repeated misfortune? First the trap meant for the unicorn, then the rune emblazoned on the back of his neck that would lead the witch to him...the witch he had named the new Prince of the wood by delivering him the former. Now he had been tricked yet again by the kinder witch, one he had naïevely begun to trust because of his kindness, a kindness given out of selfish motives and with hidden strings attached. Yet, try as he might to drum up anger for what had been done to him, the wildling’s mind returned to the more pleasant aspects of his trials. The strange beauty and reverence in the ritual dismemberment of the Prince’s body, the mysterious living home grown by an ancient tree, and the warmth and comfort he had found within. True, he had been deceived, but at least when it came to the more gentle of the two brothers, the intentions were somewhat flattering.

 

When he saw movement in the corner of his eye, Ren paused his pacing to watch as a figure approached hurriedly, Clan at last emerging from the gloom with dew-damp hair and sorrowful eyes that would not meet his as he offered the wildling a red apple that shone with an undertone of orange he could recognize by this point as matching that of the witches’ hair. Plucking the fruit from the other’s hand, he studied it closely before scowling, using a sharp nail to carve a small piece free that he held out toward Clan.

 

“You first,  _ witch _ ,” he ordered firmly.

 

“Of...of course,” the other muttered, accepting it without complaint.

 

Watching closely, the wildling made sure that the witch had swallowed the piece of apple before being satisfied that it was safe for him to eat, taking a bite and tossing the rest aside. Within moments, Ren was able to see beyond the fog, recognizing the forest that had lay hidden beyond the enchantment. Licking his lips of the last of the apple’s juice, the wildling strode closer to Clan, circling around him as a predator might do with its frightened prey. He could tell that the witch was nervous, certainly, but the fear in him was not of a creature knowing it would be killed...it was an uncertain thrill causing his heart to flutter.

 

“Tell me,  _ Clan _ ,” Ren cooed, borrowing the witch’s favorite phrase. “I have seen you turn into a fox and borrow the form of my kind, but this shape you’re in now? Is this  _ you _ ?”

 

“It is...half of me, I suppose,” the other was compelled to answer, daring a look up at the wildling, his cheeks flushing pink at the tone of Ren’s voice.

 

Clan’s breath hitched in his throat as Ren came to a stop in front of him and raised his chin with the tip of one of his claws, blue eyes wide and bright.

 

“Show me what a fae  _ really _ looks like,” the wilding commanded.

 

Without thinking, nor even needing to, the witch shuddered as golden flames burst out in tendrils across his forehead, weaving downward and across his body as his form changed according to the wildling’s order. Thin fingers turned ashen-black, the nails growing long and pointed with gold along the edge, his feet and toes altering similarly. Human ears were replaced by those of a fox, tipped in black and adorned with small, golden hoops. Behind him, a bushy, white-dipped tail sprouted and the freckles that littered his skin became flecks of shimmering, golden sunlight.

 

“W-what did you--?” Clan began to ask, but was silenced as Ren surged downward to seize his lips in a fierce kiss that chased any further thoughts from his mind.

 

Strong hands reached down to grab hold of the witch’s hips and the wildling pulled him against his chest, only then moving one to press into the dip of Clan’s lower back to keep him in place. A surprised whine escaped the fae at the unexpected forwardness Ren was showing, especially given how pear-shaped the day had turned. An attempted mauling was more what he had been thinking was in his future, not...this. Whatever this was.

 

Breaking away from the wildling’s lips to gasp for breath, Clan tried to read Ren’s expression, hands pressed against the other’s bare chest and practically pinned in place by how close he was being held.

 

“R-Ren, what...what are you doing?” he murmured weakly, half imagining he was still asleep. 

 

“Finishing what we started,” the wildling grumbled, his voice deep with a desire he had been trying to ignore. “Before I put this dream behind me, I think you owe me as much,  _ trickster _ .”

 

 

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* * *

* * *

 

 

 

Swallowing around a sudden lump in his throat, Clan opened his mouth to speak again but managed only to choke on a moan as Ren rocked his hips against the witch’s, the thin sleep shorts and silk skirt he wore doing nothing to hide his growing arousal. The other smirked in a pleased manner at the sound, feeling the heat of his own kindled back into a consuming flame. Still, despite his words, Ren paused the movement of his hips and simply held Clan in place, studying the witch’s expression for a long moment before leaning in to nip at his lower lip.

 

“Unless you would rather have me leave you like this, of course,” he teased, giving a chuff of amusement as the witch shook his head rapidly and turned an even deeper shade of red.

 

“No, I...I don’t want you to go just yet,” he admitted breathlessly, rocking himself with a shameless whine against the other’s firm cock as it finally emerged from within its sheath.

 

Having vaguely wondered how wildling anatomy worked after not needing to advert his eyes from staring when Ren first appeared, Clan only had a few moments to reflect on this new information before he found himself on his back in the snow, breath knocked from his lungs at the cold sting of the surface. Then Ren was over him, the heat of his body all but an inferno as he straddled the witch’s hips, pulling his coverings down off him to press the underside of his considerable length against the witch’s freed cock.

 

“This will have to do,” Ren grumbled, bracing a hand down on either of Clan’s shoulders to keep him pinned in place, taking a moment to bask in the sight of the witch beneath him.

 

Clan gazed up at the wildling with wonder, his face a rosy pink and his long hair fanned out into a halo beneath his head, stark against the white of the snow. Without prompting, the witch reached between them to wrap his hand as best he could around both their cocks, giving a pleasant bit of pressure that left the wilding with a pleased sigh as he thrust himself into it almost instinctively.

 

“ _ Please _ …” Clan whispered, eyes fluttering shut with a groan at the blissful friction every time Ren moved, his free hand rising to cup the side of the wildling’s neck. “Don’t stop.”

 

It was all the consent he needed, head dipping down to capture the other’s lips in a more passionate, needy kiss this time as his hips rolled forward languidly, drinking deep of the moan he was able to pull from the witch by doing so. Clan danced his fingers up from the other’s neck and into his mane of unruly black hair, gripping firmly to have some manner of anchor as pleasure coursed through his frame. He tried to arch his hips into the rock of Ren’s, but found it hard to move at all with the other’s weight bearing down on him, whining in blissful agony at the helplessness their positions lent. Something about being used to pleasure the wildling left him utterly breathless and aroused, moaning deeper to show his appreciation. 

 

With Clan so willing and responsive, it didn’t take long for Ren to adopt a steady rhythm, sitting up again when it became too difficult to maintain their kiss for lack of air. He instead gazed down at the creature, eyes lidded and lips parted as he panted, watching how the pinpricks of sunlight pulsed along the other’s skin in time with his racing heartbeat.

 

“You’re beautiful,” he sighed along with a particularly rough thrust, basking in the cry of pleasure it tore from Clan’s unoccupied lips. “Why...hide this?”

 

“It...made our mother...sad…” the witch managed to rasp, shuddering. “When we were young...I suppose it became habit. To---ah~!---to hide.”

 

“Well, your mother isn’t here,” Ren hummed, giving another buck of his hips. “No more hiding. Not from me.”

 

“No, I won’t,” Clan promised with a whimper, eyes opening to meet the wildling’s gaze. “But...you’re leaving us...your pack. You have to go back...what does it matter if I hide?”

 

“Perhaps I’ll visit,” the wildling suggested with a faint smile before his own eyes shut with a wave of pleasure, growling deep in his throat. “Would you like that?”

 

“Yes...please,” the witch practically begged, pressing up against Ren as best he could. “We need you.”

 

“We?” Ren laughed breathlessly, shaking his head as he fucked himself against Clan. “I don’t think...your brother would agree.”

 

“I saw it in the bones,” Clan reminded him with a thin smile, letting his eyes slip closed again.

 

“What else...did they tell you?” the wildling teased. “Did you know I was going to use you like this in the middle of the woods?”

 

“I was too embarrassed to ask,” the witch admitted, laughing into another moan. “I had hoped, though…”

 

“Had you?” Ren hummed, peeking an eye open with a raised brow. “You’re strange...you know that? You’re more like us...than I thought.”

 

“What a compliment,” Clan sighed, his frame tensing with a particularly loud groan. “Ah, Ren...I don’t think I can last much longer.

 

Grunting his agreement to that statement, Ren bared down harder against Clan as his thrusts became more erratic, chest heaving as the wildling gave himself over to his need. Clawed fingers drew blood from the fae witch’s shoulders as he bucked his hips harshly, hissing when the other pulled at his hair in response but it sent a bolt of ecstasy down his spine that left the wildling shuddering into his climax. Spilling himself onto Clan’s bare stomach with a feral growl, his chest was filled with butterflies once more as he heard the witch cry out his name in praise when he followed moments later.

 

* * *

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

 

Collapsing beside the trembling witch, Ren drew him close and held him against his chest as they both rode through the pleasant dreaminess that followed. Clan tucked his head beneath the other’s chin and heaved a shaky sigh, a blissful smile on his lips as his tail thwumped lightly against the snow. It hadn’t quite sunk in what had happened, but the witch was quite glad that Ren had opted for frotting instead of tearing him to pieces in anger over being tricked at least three times in his brief acquaintance with the witches so far. But would this be it? When the wildling left---far sooner than the witch would like---would he ever see him again?

 

“You must come back,” Clan finally said some minutes later. “I’ll miss you terribly.”

 

“Why not come with me, then?” Ren offered, though it sounded half-hearted.

 

“I can’t…”

 

“I imagined,” the wildling chuckled, sitting up slowly and helping Clan to do the same, even going as far as tugging the hem of the witch’s clothing back in place for him. “I will. Come back, I mean. But for now, I should get back to my pack. They will be worried.”

 

Smiling sadly but with understanding, Clan rose on unsteady legs before offering a hand down to help the other up. Of course he knew that Ren would need to go home, he had been foolish to try keeping him away, forcing him to remain in their domain with his sweet-wrapped trickery. But beneath his expression and kind eyes, the witch’s mind was racing as the details of what had just occurred began to settle into focus as the cloying miasma of lust dissipated.

 

“Go on, already,” the witch laughed, giving a playful bow before Ren. “It has been an honor. But before you do…”

 

Reaching into the void pocket in the empty air before him, Clan plucked free the knuckle bone he had given to Ren earlier.  It was handed to the wildling before stepping back, hands clasped together behind his back as he rocked on his heels.

 

“I meant what I said about that being lucky,” he hummed. “But not only that, it’s a token of free passage to and from our lands. You won’t need to worry about the traps or getting stuck here.”

 

Ren squinted at the bit of bone in his palm before scowling at Clan in exasperation.

 

“Would this have gotten me free earlier, without the apple?”

 

“If you’d remembered to take my gift with you, yes,” the witch replied with a wink before hopping backward through a burst of golden flames, shifting into the form of a fox. “Safe travels, Ren! Until we meet again!”

 

With that, the fae fox bounded off through the trees back toward the clearing, leaving an utterly confused and---frustratingly enough for him---endeared Ren to watch until the blur of orange was beyond his vision. Shaking his head, he closed his fingers around the bone and departed, left with the impression that he still didn’t quite grasp the full weight of the situation that was now his bond to the two brothers.

  
  


 

 

Some minutes later, Clan burst through the front door of their cottage, nearly breaking Hux’s nose as he had just barely gotten out of the way.

 

“What in the name of the gods, Clan?” he snapped crossly. “Where have you been?”

 

“In the woods with Ren, showing him the way out,” Clan panted, having sprinted the whole way home, fur dripping with melting clumps of snow. “Hux...we have a  _ problem _ .”

 

“With the wildling? How so? He’s gone now, hopefully for good.”

 

“You missed a crucial detail in your bargain with him,” Clan huffed, rising up on hind legs with the whirl of his transformative magic, shifting to his true, fae form again.

 

“Out with it, then,” Hux grumbled, brows raised to see his brother in such a state, a worried flicker running through his features at the sight of claw marks on the other’s shoulders. “What did I miss?”

 

“You asked Ren to kill the Prince of the Wood, and this he has done. But you forgot one of  _ the  _ most fundamental rules we all abide by.”

 

“Which is _what_?”

 

“Ren ordered me to show him my fae form, Hux.”

 

“Why does he even know that you’re part fae in the first---?” he began, but cut off as his eyes widened in horror.

 

“I couldn’t control it. I shifted form because  _ he told me to _ .”

 

“ _ No _ ,” Hux whispered, hands balling into fists at his side.

 

“Of all the ancient rules,  _ how _ could you forget?” Clan sighed.

 

“You keep what you kill…” Hux hissed through grit teeth.

 

“You keep what you kill,” his brother confirmed. “All hail Prince Ren of the Wood.”


	7. ...And You Kill What You Can't

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clan and Hux discuss the very real wrinkle in their plans and what fate lies in store for the newly-crowned Prince. When the easiest solution leaves a bad taste in the free-spirited witch's mouth, he offers up another way that might just work...if either party can stomach it.

“It's out of the question.”

 

Hux, who had begun to pace as his mind unspooled itself and rewound into several different focuses all at once, stopped mid-stride and turned to blink at his brother; he had momentarily forgotten he was even still there. A gift and a curse, to think through so many veins at one time, losing sense of his surroundings. A brow raised to find the other witch wearing such a grim, serious expression that hardly suited his softer features.

 

“I haven't said anything,” he snorted.

 

“You're thinking loudly enough that you don't need to,” Clan shot back with a frown. “You're considering your options.”

 

“Is that  _ not _ what I should be doing?”

 

“Of course you should be, but one of them involves killing Ren, doesn't it?”

 

Rolling his eyes, Hux linked his arms behind his back. He gave a short nod, studying the other witch closely with a slight squint. While it wasn’t  _ ideal _ , of course, it had been the first idea to cross his mind as the most straight-forward and simple: if the law of the land was to keep what you killed, then that was all he needed to do to finally have what he was after.

 

“You already know the answer, or you wouldn’t look like you’d just eaten a sour grape by mistake,” he finally replied.

 

“And that’s precisely why I told you immediately that it’s out of the question,” Clan concluded. “You are not killing Ren.”

 

“You seem quite invested in his welfare, suddenly,” Hux pointed out, brows coming together. “Why defend him so readily? He’s still practically a stranger to us.”

 

“To you, perhaps.” 

 

That gave Hux pause, head tilting slightly as he tried to make sense of such a statement. A day in each other’s company---not even a full one, at that---could hardly be grounds for the witch to come to the wildling’s defense as if they had known each other at length. No, he didn’t imagine it had anything to do with the length of time they had been around one another but moreso about what the two had been up to. Looking Clan over again, he noted the state of his tussled hair and how haphazardly his clothes were slung on his hips...it didn’t take much to imagine what must have happened, especially after he had caught them all over each other on the kitchen floor first thing in the morning.

 

“While I can appreciate that you have a... _ taste _ for the wildling--” Hux drawled, nose crinkling.

 

“I-it’s not just that!” Clan blurted, his face turning rosy as soon as the words slipped. “He’s special. I know you can feel it, too, brother. You wouldn’t have spared him the first time if you hadn’t.”

 

“Hardly. He’s just some wild  _ thing _ that happened to offer me something I wanted,” the other huffed, bristling just slightly at the accusation.

 

“No, I can see it in the way you look at him,” Clan persisted, wearing a sly smirk at the subtle reaction in Hux. “ _ And _ in the way you waited to interrupt us this morning. Don’t think I hadn’t heard you on the stairs…”

 

“Yet you continued all the same? I never pegged you for an exhibitionist,” Hux offered, shaking his head of the image. “I was being polite.”

 

“You were being a jealous voyeur,” the other witch corrected, giving a bark of laughter as his brother turned red. “You liked what you saw, I bet. Wished it was  _ you _ instead of I?”

 

“H-hardly, you dirty kit,” he stammered, glancing away. “Regardless, it has nothing to do with the situation at hand.”

 

“But it does, Hux, you  _ are _ interested in the wildling, just the same as I. You just struggle to admit it.”

 

“I am not interested in the--!” Hux snapped, turning to his brother with a snarl and only realizing that he admitted to more than he wished with each passionate denial when he saw the shit-eating grin the other witch was wearing. “Do  _ not _ look at me in that tone of voice, _**Armitech**_ , or I’ll sew your eyes shut.”

 

Clan shivered, ears perking and skin breaking into goose-flesh as his brother used his true name, a rare occasion that meant that the other witch was clearly upset. Still, it wasn’t a topic he intended to drop. Especially now that he knew he had gotten under Hux’s skin.

 

“And I’ll gladly repay you by sewing shut your mouth, _**Armitage**_ ,” Clan hummed, crossing his arms over his bare chest with a pleased smirk. “With how much you love to hear yourself talk, it would be a decisive blow to your ego, I’m sure.”

 

“Brat,” Hux hissed, a chill running down his spine at the use of his name.

 

“Oh I know, but  _ you’re _ the one trying to change the subject with idle threats. This is a very serious issue and I am treating it as such.”

 

“Then what do  _ you _ suggest? As things stand, Ren is now the Prince of the wood. He hopefully remains ignorant to that fact,” the short-haired witch sighed, gesturing for his brother to follow him as he made way for the kitchen so as to sit at the table. “But someday, sooner than later, he  _ will _ figure it out. You’re lucky he probably thought your obedience was sheerly from the heat of the moment…”

 

“Well, I  _ might _ have still done it on those grounds, anyway,” Clan admitted, feeling his cheeks heat up again while following after Hux. “But you’re right. Ren’s smart, it’s not a matter of  _ if _ but  _ when _ .”

 

Chewing on his lower lip, the long-haired witch searched his mind for any possible options that didn’t involve having to harm the wildling, gold flames briefly rising across his form as he resumed his relatively plain human one once more. Hux could always try to proceed  _ without _ the true crown---an ancient token of magic woven into his very being---as many of the denizens of the wood would recognize the antlers and fur cloak as sure signs that the witch was their new Prince. But the elves...they would not rally under a false leader, let alone one who was half human in the first place. Nor could they count on the fae’s support, who were a far more fickle lot in such matters than the elves.

 

“I don’t know,” he finally admitted with a frown, moving automatically to make them a kettle of tea while his brother sat at the table. “It’s not something I had even considered happening.”

 

“Nor had I,” Hux grumbled, running a hand through his hair with a frustrated scowl. “I had imagined that Ren killing the Prince in my name would mean the kill would be mine by extension, but apparently I was wrong. The law is unwaveringly literal, it seems.”

 

“Perhaps we could devise a spell of some sort? A transference of power?” Clan suggested hopefully, filling the kettle from the basin.

 

“While I consider us both to be quite smart and resourceful, in addition to our mixed magical bloodlines, it would be beyond us to defy such old magic. This predates humans learning to create fire...primordial magic that defines the lives of all beings. It cannot be done.”

 

“And I doubt Ren wants the mantle for himself, or he wouldn’t have offered you the Prince in the first place.”

 

“No, he wouldn’t have,” Hux agreed. “This is ridiculous. Time is running short as it is, now we have  _ this _ to deal with? The humans are testing their boundaries and finding little resistance. They have lost their fear of the creatures of the wood, they ignore the stories of their elders and have no respect for lands that do not belong to them. They’ll start with the trees, then they’ll claim the rivers and lakes. Soon, farmland will replace the sweetgrass glens and their livestock will drive away the deer. New villages mean more humans to fill them, then they have more children who then need space of their own. Their king will push outward further and further, seeking out our caverns rich with minerals and ore, bleeding all other resources dry along the way. Not to mention the hunting of any and all creatures of the wood in protection of their claims and to fill their larders. If we do not unify under one banner, all who call this place home will be driven from it or slain.”

 

“Without a Prince to follow, there is no chance for unity...and there is no way to make you Prince as long as the present one remains alive,” Clan murmured, looking down into the kettle with a forlorn expression. “We can’t let them take these lands, but what of Ren? I can’t stand to see him killed, not after he truly wished to pass the crown to you in the first place.”

 

A long silence followed as the two brothers fell deep into their own thoughts, picking apart the details of the situation and scouring their memory for any possible ideas of how to get around it without having to kill Ren. But as Clan poured the steaming water into two cups, filling the air with a crisp and inspiring mint aroma, his eyes widened and he nearly dropped the kettle in his excitement when he turned to face his brother.

 

“Yet! What do the old laws say of there being multiple rulers?” he proposed, earning a perplexed look from his twin.

 

“Multiple? As far as I know, only the one who slays the former can inherit the crown. I suppose if two or more beings did the killing at the same time, it might be split evenly amongst them, but it isn’t exactly a theory we can test  _ now _ , is it?”

 

“No, certainly not, but that isn’t the means by which I meant,” Clan laughed, bringing the cups to the table so he could sit down, eyes alight with the brainstorm raging behind them.

 

“Well, out with it then, you seem rather giddy,” Hux snorted, but it was hard not to be hopeful by proxy as he saw how pleased his brother seemed to be.

 

“It wouldn’t have worked with the former Prince, as he was a stag. But now Ren has become Prince, and he is a being of humanoid nature with language and consent. Not much different than the fae, really, just more... _ wild _ .”

 

“ _ Feral _ , you mean,” the short-haired witch interjected, wincing as Clan kicked his shin under the table for cutting in.

 

“As I was saying. As far as options go, I think it’s the best answer. Not the easiest, especially since you’ve been a royal asswagon to him---”

 

“I have done no such--- _ OW! _ Cut that out!”

 

“Then stop interrupting. The way forward is clear: you must marry Ren, thus becoming the second Prince by the binding of your vows.”

 

Hux, who had made the mistake of taking a sip of his tea at just that moment, proceeded to choke on it. Banging at his chest with a fist as he fought to keep the liquid from his lungs, he stared at his brother with watering eyes in disbelief at the conclusion he had reached.

 

“You want me to  _ marry a wildling _ ?!” he wheezed, face equal parts red from his coughing and the thought of something so ridiculous. “Are you out of your mind?!”

 

“It makes sense to me,” Clan replied with a shrug.

 

“To you, perhaps, but he  _ likes _ you! We’d sooner gut the other than exchange vows!”

 

“No one is telling you to fall in love with Ren, brother, calm yourself,” Clan laughed, clearly far too pleased with the idea already. “Marriage of convenience. It is simply a contract, a binding that will force the law to recognize you both as Prince. It would put you on equal footing and require nothing from him afterward while you use your position to rally the wood around you.”

 

“Do you honestly expect any of them to buy into  _ that _ if I stand before them as the Prince-by-Marriage-Only and don’t even have my... _ spouse _ with me?” Hux asked, cringing to refer to himself as such in relation to Ren. “He’s going to have to be involved, like it or not.”

 

“Well, then we explain that to him. Ren is a leader, himself, you know, and you would benefit greatly by having the wildlings on your side through him.”

 

“It would be easier to just kill him...maybe even  _ kinder _ ,” Hux grumbled into his mug, scooting out of range just before the other witch could kick him a third time.

 

“You think it would be  _ easier _ for you to  _ murder _ Ren than to be civil and explain our intentions? Don’t be such a cowardly kit, you would like him if you just gave him half a chance.”

 

“And what if he refuses? What do we do  _ then _ , Clan?”

 

“I...he won’t refuse. It won’t come to that.”

 

“Don’t be so naïve,” Hux sighed. “Ren clearly prefers your company to mine, you weren’t the one to make him bargain for his life when first you met. He should have no reason to want to help me any further, let alone have himself bound to me and required to put on a show of being an actual, united leadership. So when he refuses our proposal, what should we do?”

 

Clan remained defiantly silent at the question, staring at Hux with a challenging expression, steadfast in his conviction that the plan would work and Ren would not refuse. Hux, however, was largely unconvinced, not seeing whatever it was that his brother did. Interest in another did not mean nor guarantee they would feel likewise, and all signs pointed to a negative response. Perhaps if it were Clan, the wildling might be willing, but he knew his brother would never want to be forced into such a position and he would not place that burden on his shoulders in the first place.

 

“You keep what you kill, Clan, but you must kill what you  _ can’t _ ,” Hux concluded, wrapping his hands around the warmth of his mug. “I am...willing to at least try, however. We’re going to need all the help we can get if we’re going to take the human’s kingdom. When we deliver the meat and bones to the wildlings, we will see if Ren can be reasoned with.”

 

“In that case, maybe  _ I _ should do the talking,” Clan teased weakly, his smile lacking its usual warmth but he was thankful that his brother would consider this option first. “We won’t make any headway if you piss him off the second you open your mouth.”

 

“Only if you promise to keep your tongue out of  _ his _ this time.”

 

Clan took his turn to choke on his tea as Hux gave a victorious smirk:  _ now _ they were even.


	8. Home Again, But The Heart Still Roams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ren returns home to his pack with a spring in his step, fresh from his encounter with the witches and quite lively after his fling with Clan. But if he thought that information would be something he could keep private, he's soon to find that nothing of that nature goes unnoticed amongst the wildlings.

Summer strawberries were still sweet on Ren's lips when the wildling emerged from the forest and strode lazily to the mouth of the hibernal cave. While he had been eager to return to his pack after the strange night at the witches’ cottage, the unexpected tryst with Clan left him with a pleased grin the whole way home and a warmth in his chest that had nothing to do with a tranquillity curse. It still hadn’t quite sunk in, his budding---and horribly confused---feelings fresh on the surface, tingling like static across his skin. While strange, Ren found that the longer he dwelled on it, the more he enjoyed the knowledge that the witch was drawn to him. That he wanted him...but was also interested in wildlings, wanted to learn and to share his own knowledge in return. Tail weaving behind him as if to music only he could hear, Ren looked up as the leaves in a nearby tree began to rustle and Chameleon slid down from the branches with a wave of greeting.

 

“Was wonderin’ if you were lost,” the mossy wildling chuckled, wandering over to Ren.

 

“You won’t be rid of me that easy,” Ren snorted, reaching out to grasp the other’s forearm, grinning as the gesture was returned.

 

“What kept you?” Chameleon asked, head tilting to one side. “Not like you to delay. Tricks?”

 

“Tricks is a word for it, yeah.”

 

“Bad tricks? Hurt any?”

 

“No, not hurt. A few of the tricks were a bit...infuriating, but one of the witches meant well by them. Water over the falls, I’m home now.”

 

“Witches? Thought there was one…”

 

“Twins, apparently,” Ren sighed with a faint shrug of his broad shoulders, letting go of the other’s arm finally. “The one who trapped me, and then the other is...softer. Gentle, I suppose, as far as witches go. It’s complicated.”

 

Squinting at the dark-furred wildling before him, Chameleon seemed to be studying him closely before a brow raised along with the blossoming of a confused expression. Ren was usually wound quite tightly, tension ever-present in his fame as he kept himself ready for anything, at any time. But now he seemed calm, contented, and dare he say...happy.

 

“Glow about you,” he concluded, head lolling to the other way. “You’re relaxed.”

  
“Because I’m home,” scoffed Ren, rolling his eyes. “You would be, too, if you’d been there.”

 

“No, not quite,” Chameleon countered, lifting a hand with his pointer finger raised. “Loose in the limbs, lazy. Dreamy eyes....hold on.”

 

Looking away, the mossy wildling gave a bird-song whistle, craning his neck to listen until it was echoed back to him from a distance. Perhaps a minute later there came a ruckus from the underbrush and Otter bounded over to them with an eager grin, still damp from her latest trip to the river.

 

“Ren! You’re back! You’re---!” she cheered, but fell silent as she got close, blinking round eyes at him before looking to Chameleon questioningly.

 

“ _ See _ ?” the mossy wildling chuckled, his grin only growing as Otter’s gaze whipped back to Ren.

 

“See  _ what _ ?” he muttered, ears snapping up as the female wildling was suddenly in his personal space. “What  _ are _ you--?”

 

“The glow,” she whispered, as if in awe as a hand pat at one of his flushed cheeks. “You aren’t wearing your tension like usual…”

 

“Because I’m home!” Ren snapped, stepping away from her touch with a snort, tail lashing in agitation. “You two are being ridiculous.”

 

The smile that Otter gave him at his outburst---full of sharp teeth, lips drawn up into dimples that crinkled her eyes---left him turning an even deeper shade of red, forced to look away with his ears pinned back. There was no way either of them could  _ know _ ...could there?

 

“No wonder you took so long coming back,” she hummed, seemingly quite pleased with herself and her assessment. “You mated the witch.”

 

“I---”

 

“ _ Two _ witches,” Chameleon added helpfully, causing Otter to give a scandalized gasp as she rounded on their leader.

 

“You mated _two_ witches?!”

 

“Twins,” the mossy wildling clarified.

 

“ _ Twins _ ?!” Otter’s voice was a high squeak as she gaped at Ren. “At the  _ same time _ or..?”

 

“No one said  _ anything _ about doing  _ anything _ with  _ either _ of the witches!” he stammered, face close to catching fire.

 

Chameleon clapped his hands with an impressed nod of his head, having to duck back as the dark wildling made as if to lunge at him.

 

“You can’t fool us! You most certainly  _ did _ mate at least one of them,” Otter huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

 

“And what would you even know about  _ that _ , anyway?” Ren grumbled petulantly.

 

“Plenty more than  _ you _ , I bet!” she laughed in triumph, lifting her chin. “I’m not a pup, just because I’m small, y’know...I’ve mated Cham several times, in fact.”

 

“Very good times had,” Chameleon confirmed with a playful smirk at the small wildling

 

“This is not information I asked for, nor needed!  _ Ever _ !” the dark wildling shouted, causing the pair to burst into laughter. “And I  _ didn’t _ , not technically. We...tested the waters.”

 

“Aaaaand?” Otter drawled, leaning forward eagerly with bright eyes.

 

“ _ Aaaaand _ it’s none of your business,” Ren huffed, shoving her back with a hand to the face. “This conversation is over.”

 

“What conversation is that?” asked a voice from behind the small wildling.

 

“Ren’s back!” Otter chirped, looking back as Hyena emerged from the cave with a pleased smile to see their leader had come home. “And he---”

 

“ _ Don’t _ ,” Ren warned with a low growl.

 

“Don’t  _ what _ ? Is it a guessing game? I  _ do _ like games,” Hyena chuckled with a brow raised.

 

“It is not a guessing ga--!”

 

“Ren mated the witch,” Chameleon managed to blurt before just barely leaping away as Ren made a grab for his throat.

 

“Oh, goodness!” cackled Hyena, eyes squinting fondly at their flustered leader. “You must tell us about it.”

 

“He said it’s none of my business,” Otter whined, puffing her cheeks with a frown.

 

“Because it isn’t! It was just...a fluke, that’s all,” Ren growled, glaring off to one side because the shade of his cheeks betrayed him, despite his best efforts. “As I  _ just _ said to these idiots, I didn’t technically mate the witch. We just fooled around and then parted ways.”

 

“That seems a shame,” sighed Hyena, though they still looked at the dark wildling thoughtfully. “Imagine, our leader mated to the new Prince...”

  
“Wrong witch,” Ren found himself muttering before he could stop himself, swearing under his breath after he’d spoken.

 

“There’s two of them, actually,” Otter was quick to explain when Hyena blinked in confusion. “Twins.”

 

“My my, what a time you’ve had,” they laughed, shaking their head. “Well, come inside, at least. Maybe you’ll be more inclined to tell us about it once you’re comfortable. I was just stoking the fire when I heard the shouting, Bear has some fresh fish cooking and Lady Heron is making her wonderful berry mash.”

 

Leveling the two younger wildlings with a sour glare, Ren allowed himself to be led along into the cave with Hyena’s arm looped around one of his own. He was vaguely aware that even beneath all his embarrassment and annoyance, he could still feel that odd, warm energy flickering along his nerves. It was dangerous...and he wanted more of it. It dawned on him that perhaps there was something genuinely addicting about the fae, and had left himself be poisoned in a sense by kissing Clan. Considering how the twins had been deceiving him since the moment he struck a deal with Hux, it wasn’t  _ impossible _ , but the long haired-witch had been vastly apologetic for his part in the whole affair beforehand. Ren refused to imagine that this was yet another trick, finding he was desperate to believe the best in Clan, which was terrifying in its own right. The witch had stood to gain nothing by revealing his true form, an intimacy that the wildling would hold to as proof that whatever this feeling was, it was genuinely his own.

 

“You seem distracted,” Hyena said, and Ren startled from his thoughts with a frown.

 

“I have a lot to think about,” he admitted, finding it easier to talk to the older wildling compared to the pair they’d left outside.

 

“Is it the witches?”

 

Without saying so, he at least gave a nod, glad for the limited light in the cave, the shadows hiding his flushed cheeks for the most part. Hyena pat his arm and continued to a communal space where a natural fissure in the cave’s ceiling allowed smoke from their fire pit to escape, finding that Bear had curled up for a nap while his fish were cooking and Lady Heron was perched elegantly on a flat stone. In her lap was a large clay bowl, skilled fingers using a rounded stone as a mortar to crush various berries and honeycomb into a sweet mash. Looking up from her work as the pair of wildlings grew closer, she smiled happily and set the bowl aside to stand gingerly. Ren always frowned a bit when he saw the stiffness in her limbs, but Lady Heron brushed off his worries and assured him that it was just an unavoidable part of growing old.

 

“There he is, our wayward leader,” she laughed, holding her hands palm up. “Welcome home.”

 

“It is good to see you, Lady,” Ren murmured, placing his hands in hers and squeezed them gently. “All of you, really, but I could have done without my welcoming party.”

 

“Oh yes, I could hear the dears laughing from here, but I couldn’t quite catch what it was they were on about.”

 

“Better left unsaid,” the dark wildling huffed, ears drooping as he frowned.

 

“Come, sit with me a while and tell me of your troubles,” she offered, the smile she wore maternal and kind. It wasn’t one that Ren could refuse. “I know that you would feel better to have it off your chest.”

 

“I’ll make sure the young ones don’t trespass,” Hyena offered when Ren still looked rather hesitant. “These things are serious matters, after all.”

 

“Alright, alright,” he sighed heavily, shaking his head. “Sit, it’s a fairly long story…”

 

Resuming her perch with the bowl of berries, Lady Heron hummed softly as she listened to the tale their young leader spun of hazy rituals, sudden storms, questionable hospitality, and the truth of what the witches really were. Somewhere along the line, Hyena had become so wrapped up in the story and they forgot to chase Otter and Cham off: by the time Ren had finished, he had a full audience---even Bear had woken up halfway through. But the pair had settled in quietly to listen, leaving Ren a bit surprised when he roused from his memories and found them all looking at him. He had been as open with details concerning everything but  _ exactly _ what had happened between Clan and himself, but he could tell by the various expressions that there were  _ questions _ …

 

“So, you didn’t  _ actually _ mate the witch,” Otter asked, sounding annoyingly disappointed.

 

“No.”

 

“The nice one gave you a means to go back whenever you want? Isn’t that kinda...foolish of him?” Bear chuckled, eyes squinting with his broad grin.

 

“I guess, technically, but...I mean, I don’t intend to go back, so--” Ren began, absently touching the knucklebone he had attached to a braid in his hair some hours ago on his way home.

 

“What?! You’re  _ not _ ? But that witch  _ clearly _ likes you!” Otter blurted when Chameleon opened his mouth to ask a question of his own.

 

“It’ll pass, he probably just found me fascinating,” Ren replied with a shrug. “They don’t get visitors, especially not with that other one around.”

 

“But you said he’s pretty and kind, he would make a sweet mate for you,” she protested, causing Hyena to burst into laughter as their leader went red yet again.

 

“I’m not looking for a mate! Once we get our share of the Prince’s meat and bones, we’re done with witches,” Ren decreed. “For our sake, none of us is going anywhere near them. I’d rather not push our luck: they aren’t  _ just _ witches, but fae-born. Who knows what else they’re capable of.”

 

“Better allies than enemies, especially if one of ‘em is the new Prince,” Bear pointed out. “Possibly earn some sway in the Court since they’re half fae. They  _ do _ have the best honey, I certainly wouldn’t be opposed to being on good terms with ‘em, too…”

 

“Can’t get banished or eaten if you mate his brother,” Chameleon agreed.

 

Growling low in his throat, Ren rose from where he had been sitting and the other wildlings fell silent at the sound, having the decency to look ashamed under his hard glare. The silence was only broken when Lady Heron cleared her throat, reaching a hand out to pat the dark wildling’s shoulder before addressing the others.

  
“You lot run along, won’t you? Our meal will be ready soon enough, but we could do with some greens and those spicy little yellow flowers,” she prompted. “Ren and I will set up here so we may all eat together and then tuck in for sleep.”

 

Somehow her words, while soft, carried an authority that none dared to challenge, the chamber soon empty save for herself and Ren. Chuckling, she set her bowl aside and brushed off her lap before letting her arms rest across her crossed leg, regarding her young leader with a fond, tired sort of smile.

 

“Thank you for running them off,” he said, shoulders slumping as his temper deflated.

 

“They mean well, but sometimes they can be a  _ bit _ too nosy for their own good. That said, however, I felt you might be more comfortable discussing this one-on-one.”   
  
“What is there to discuss? I thought I had been pretty clear…”

 

“Tsk, don’t sass me, pup,” she warned him, chuckling when she could sense him flinching. “Tell me of this witch, the kind one you were so taken by. What does he look like?”

 

It was a trick Lady Heron had developed years ago to aid in dampening the anger that sometimes flared too fiercely in the dark wildling, her patience like unyielding iron as Ren had to take a deep breath to focus. It wouldn’t be enough to describe Clan simply, as it wouldn’t do him justice, nor give the blind wildling any real idea of what the witch looked like. Closing his eyes, he brought the image to the surface of his thoughts before he spoke again.

 

“Clan is shorter than I, perhaps closer in height to Chameleon but taller than Otter,” he began with the most basic detail before moving on. “Thin, almost fragile---like a sapling---but carries a hidden strength. A rose with thorns. His skin is soft like a petal and warm, as if the sun lends it a kiss even in the night. Pale as milk, but spattered with constellations of tan freckles from his time spent outside in his gardens. Long fingers and pointed nails, as close to claws as I imagine humans can grow. The pads and his palms are surprisingly rough and worn compared to the rest of his appearance; he likes to work with his hands rather than relying on his magic. Lanky in the limbs, he tends to stand with a slight slouch, as if to minimize the space he occupies, but it’s just a well-constructed shell around a wild spirit. Deep blue eyes like a natural spring, they glitter when he’s passionate about something. I’m not sure if it comes from a lack of sleep or an ailment of some kind, but the skin around his eyes is bruised and can make him look somewhat sullen when he isn’t smiling. He has long, copper hair, left loose but he keeps several braids that run through it, decorated with colorful beads and metal charms. When the sun lands in just the right way, it almost looks like strands of fire, actually. I don’t think he fancies wearing anything on his feet, I’ve only seen them bare, and he dresses lightly in silks and very little else...should I go on?”

 

“No, I think I have a good vision of the summer fae,” she chuckled, but there was a sly flicker in her foggy eyes. “Now, tell me of his brother, the unfriendly one with the silver tongue.”

 

Ren frowned, opening his eyes briefly to peer at the elder wildling uncertainly. He understood the curiosity concerning the witch he had spent the most time with, but why ask the same of the other? They were twins, after all, what good would it do to describe Hux? But he sighed and shut his eyes again, knowing he would be better off heeding her request.

 

“Well, Hux is the same height, obviously,” he scoffed. “And basically everything that Clan  isn’t . He holds himself like a human soldier, as if someone shoved a pike up his arse to keep him standing perfectly straight. Stiff in the limbs, he tends to keep his arms behind his back and his chin raised...somehow he managed to look  down on me, despite my height. Same colored skin and freckles---though I don’t think they’re as intense, he prefers the indoors. He keeps his hair short and slicked back away from his face, which is always set in either a scowl or a sneer. He’s going to have frown-lines and a permanent crease in his brow before he’s actually old, and he already has an eye that twitches whenever he’s upset. His attire is what I suppose is considered regal, a long, hooded cloak worn over a tunic and breeches, gloves on his hands and polished leather boots that are cut just below the knees. Black on black on black, as if he were repulsed by anything remotely vibrant, and accented with silver stitching here and there. I think I recall a dash of red somewhere, maybe a crest of some sort. He has a sharp tongue, clever like a fox---they both are---and stormy, steely green eyes that look as if they could strike you down with lightning if he were so inclined. Stern, abrasive, and altogether unpleasant...though I guess he had a few moments of civility where he was tolerable.”

 

“My my, they  are quite different, aren’t they?” Lady Heron hummed, leaning forward with a pleased smile. “No wonder you’re smitten.”

 

“Hardly,” Ren countered, turning to scowl at the accusation. “How can you possibly figure that after how I just described him?”

 

“I didn’t specify  which witch, now did I?”

  
That gave the other wildling pause, ears flattening against the sides of his head as he realized belatedly that even though Clan had been the one to occupy his recent thoughts, his initial fascination had come from meeting Hux in the first place and watching the pair working together to dismember the Prince. Ren had spent time with Clan and certainly enjoyed his company, but in the back of his mind, there was still nagging curiosity concerning the  _ other _ witch.

 

“Hux hates me.”

 

“I doubt that,” she said with a shake of her head. “Hate is a powerful emotion, especially wielded by a witch. If this winter fae had wished you true harm, I worry that we might not have seen you again.”

 

“Well, he  _ dislikes _ me, then. He was perfectly fine with turning me out into a storm. Why would I be smitten by someone like that?”

 

“Who’s to say, in matters of the heart. I can’t claim to be an expert, but I have been around for quite some time. I can hear the lightness in your step, the soft edge in your voice, and even though you don’t think it, you went on about this Hux nearly as long as you did Clan when I asked you to describe them both. You have found companionship in the summer easily enough, as would be expected...but the winter is, by far, the greater challenge.”

 

“Are you…” Ren mumbled, staring at the other wildling in disbelief. “Lady Heron, are you actually encouraging me to pursue  _ both _ of the witches?”

 

“Well, if you wanted to split hairs, you’ve already won one of them over...why not try for both?”

 

Ren gave her a scandalized look, glad that she couldn’t see how horribly flustered he was---though he had no doubts that she likely knew, anyway. But before he had the chance to counter the idea, noise arose from the mouth of the cave as the rest of the pack began to return from their errands and cut their conversation short. That, however, did not prevent her from adding quickly:

 

“Do keep it in mind, at least. I would love to see you happy like this more regularly.”

 

The remainder of the evening passed in a blur of loud conversations over the shared meal, as each of the wildlings recounted what they had been up to while Ren was away. Lion was still off on his own, keeping watch over the lands surrounding the cave after he had become convinced that he had seen  _ something _ large moving up in the nearby mountains. Otter had helped Bear in catching the fish while Chameleon and Hyena had made a trip to the human village on the edge of the wood to ‘relieve’ them of some supplies. Once they had eaten their fill, Ren helped Chameleon to stoke the fire before they all curled up beside it in a pile of tangled limbs and tails, pillowing their heads on one another’s chests.

Still, late into the night, Ren found himself wide awake, eyes absently trained on the roof of the cave as his thoughts ran away from him. Again and again they came back to his conversation with Lady Heron and the almost painful realization that she was right. Clan was the sweetgrass and fragrant flowers...and Hux was the fierce bite of wind just before a storm that set the air abuzz with energy. It was nearly impossible to say that he preferred one over the other, despite his misgivings concerning how they had each had a hand in deceiving him.  Maybe the Lady was right...maybe he  _ could _ pursue both of the witches. It wasn’t unheard of for a wildling to claim more than one mate, of course, but this wasn’t a common selection: twins, and they were half fae as well. Would they even allow themselves into that kind of situation? Was that even what Ren wanted in the first place? 

Night had begun to fade into the grey uncertainty of dawn when at last his eyes grew too heavy to keep open, drifting into dreamless sleep just as the sun began to tint the horizon. If any of the others stirred, he didn't notice, and they would know better than to wake him unless there was dire need.  His relations with the witches was a river to cross when he got to it, Ren supposed.  There was no urgency: after all, it wasn’t as if the pair had any  _ other _ suitors in the eaves that he would have to contend with...


	9. Messy Negotiations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The time arrives for the witches to make good on delivering what is owed to the wildlings. But what Ren imagined would be the last of their dealings is just the beginning...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your patience and readership so far <3
> 
> I know it took a bit longer to get this posted, but I hope that its 32 pages will be apology enough for that delay hehe
> 
> As always, the explicit content can be found after the four line breaks for those who would rather skip past for the plot.

Late morning sun washed over Ren’s sore muscles as the wildling finally emerged from their cave, stretching arms above his head with a loud yawn. With the familiarity around him, it was hard not to imagine that the previous days in the company of the witches had been just a vivid dream, but a clawed hand raised to the braid in his hair that held Clan’s knucklebone and the confirmation of its existence brought a slight grin to his lips. After a moment spent to relieve himself in a bush, Ren lazily wandered off down a path that lead to the nearby creek, intending to get a drink and wash his face.

 

Suddenly, a brisk wind howled through the trees, bringing with it the scent of snow and wet stone, leaving Ren frozen in his tracks as something appeared before him in a blur of white. Standing on the well-worn dirt was a large raven, more the size of a carrion bird with clever, icy blue eyes that blinked up at him from a pale, white face as it folded its wings down against its sides. It sent a chill down Ren’s spine, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end as it seemed to be studying him, the tilt of its head revealing a golden braid around its neck adorned with an amber pendant carved in the shape of a leaf.

 

“Friend?” it cawed at him, causing the wildling to startle at the word.

 

“I...um…” Ren stammered, eyes wide in his unnerved shock. “I don’t...know?”

 

“Fool,” the raven huffed with impatience, hopping a few feet closer to squint at him. “You carry a mark.”

 

A cold pit welled up in his stomach as Ren recalled his odd dream in the witches’ home and the warnings the creatures there spoke to him...warnings that turned out to be well-warranted but unheeded in the end. Hadn’t he been called ‘fool’ then, too?

 

“What mark?” the wildling looked himself over, finding only what he was used to seeing.

 

“Mark of the witch, fool!” the raven actually laughed, causing Ren to blush. “On your neck. Made a friend in the wood, a _powerful_ friend.”

 

A hand moved to cover the rune on the back of his neck, Ren scowling at the memory of its placement and the truth behind its purpose.

 

“I wouldn’t consider _that_ witch a ‘friend’,” he growled, earning another laugh from the bird.

 

“Tricky Lords, they are. But also a token of my master, there, in your braid,” the raven added, actually gesturing to the knucklebone with the tip of a wing. “You are marked as friend.”

 

“Clan gave this to me for luck,” Ren mumbled, squinting at the bird.

 

“And what did you roll with it?”

 

“Um...cow, I think he said it was. It fell into a crack in the floorboards and landed in an unusual position.”

 

“Lucky fool, then,” the raven cackled, earning a scowl from the wildling.

 

“What do you know of it, bird? And how is it you have a tongue for speaking, anyway?”

 

“I wonder the same of _you_ , fool!” it laughed, puffing out its feathers in its amusement. “Twice marked by the Lords of Autumn, but still living in the wilds?”

 

“Lords of what?” Ren blurted, brows knitting in his growing annoyance at the chatty corvid.

 

“Autumn! Fall! Death of summer, fool! Must I teach you the seasons? Next comes Winter, and after--”

 

“I know what autumn is, you wretched creature!” the wildling snapped with a low growl. “I’ve never heard them referred to as such, is all!”

 

“Shows what the fool knows, could carry it in one foot,” the raven scoffed, lifting a leg and gave a grabbing gesture with its toes. “The Lords were born amongst the dead leaves, hair of amber and harvest fire. Though not pure of blood, the Court still bestowed them this title.”

 

“My name is _Ren_! And I don’t care what their titles are, I have no business with them once me and mine are paid what we are due.”

 

“Fool-Ren _should_ take care,” the raven warned. “Lucky is the fool-Ren that Driscoll is busy, hasn’t the time to pluck wildling eyes today.”

 

“ _Driscoll_ is lucky that I’m not hungry just yet,” Ren shot back with a snort. “What business do you have here, anyway?”

 

“Business that is none of the fool-Ren’s, only stopped to see the friend the Lords have made. Disappointing, if Driscoll was asked, but he does not question reasons for it.”

 

“ _No one asked_ ! **Begone** , then!” the wildling shouted. “I’ve no patience for anymore of their tricks!”

 

Driscoll gave an undignified squawk as he leapt backward and pushed himself into the air, as if the bird had actually been shoved. Circling upward with the sun glinting on his necklace, the raven stared down at Ren sourly but not without a note of confusion before swooping off on a gust and vanished up into the clouds. Making sure that the creature wasn’t coming back, the wildling finally dropped his gaze from the heavens and stomped along furiously the rest of the way to the creek. It was hard for him to believe that the raven wasn’t actually _Hux’s_ pet, given the creature’s attitude, but Driscoll had clearly stated that he belonged to Clan.

 

“What thing would want to belong to Hux, anyway?” Ren grumbled to himself, taking a moment to be pleased with the idea that no living creature could stand to be owned by the witch.

 

Crouching on the bank of the creek, Ren reached down to cup his hands into the brisk water, bringing it to his mouth to drink noisily---’obnoxious pup’ he remembered Lady Heron calling him once for his manners. It helped to settle his temper, sighing to himself as he retrieved a second to splash into his face, shivering at the temperature. Even so far away and in his own territory, he couldn’t quite seem to shake himself of the witches, sighing to himself as he looked down into the water with a scowl. Footfalls on the path caused Ren’s ears to perk as he stood from the creek, turning just in time to see a very winded Lion rushing to meet him.

 

“Ah, I was beginning to wonder where---” Ren began, trying to put on a smile.

 

“Did you see a bird?!” Lion shouted, crouching down slightly to rest his hands on his knees as he caught his breath. “A white one!”

 

Flinching at the volume, Ren gave a nod, tail flicking as his agitation concerning Driscoll returned. A few more gasps of air and the maned wildling began to talk again, doing his best to reign in his voice for Ren's sake.

 

“I’ve been keeping an eye on the mountains ever since we had spotted some strange movement up around the peaks. Not long after you left us to take the Prince to the witch, I saw a big white bird flying up from the wood. That’s when things turned odd there on the peaks, and now today I saw the bird again!”

 

“It’s a raven,” Ren explained, speaking loudly so Lion could hear him. “Driscoll, he calls himself. He belongs to the witches.”

 

“Witches? There’s more than one?”

  
“A long story. What did you see in the mountains?”

 

“Something coming out of the caves, lots of movement in the snow. But for the life of me, I can’t get a good enough look...my eyes might be going bad.”

 

Gritting his teeth, Ren glanced to the far mountains with growing suspicion concerning the bird. How _had_ Driscoll been able to find him so easily? More importantly, however, was the fact that one of the witches had sent the bird to the mountains and now Lion was reporting abnormal activity. What business did they have up there? Would it put his pack in danger? Reaching out, Ren placed a hand on the other wildling’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze of reassurance.

 

“Go rest, Lion. Thank you for your report. I will get to the bottom of this myself.”

 

“Don’t go alone, if that’s your plan. I’ve got a feeling that whatever it is up there, it’s big and it’s not alone,” the older wildling advised him, patting the top of Ren’s head with a nod before turning to wander back along the path.

 

Snuffing with irritation at how his morning was progressing thus far, Ren glanced to the distant, snow-capped mountains. Of all the wildlings in the pack, only Bear would last in the icy climates there, but he was already halfway to hibernating. It wouldn’t be fair---or safe---to ask him to go, and while Ren wanted to go himself, his hands were also tied: he couldn't risk being away when the witches brought the share of the buck owed to the wildlings. Heaving a sigh, the wildling shook his head and followed after Lion back toward their cave. Whatever was going on in the mountains could wait a few days until he could ask the brothers about their involvement himself.

 

~*~

 

Snow had just begun to fall in a lazy drift several suns past Ren’s return to his pack when he received a summons from the witches in the form of...Driscoll. Carrying an armful of felled timber for their fires, a blur of white above him caught his eye and with recognition came a sour scowl and a huff that lingered in the crisp air.

 

“Fool-Ren! Tidings!” the raven called, circling a few times before landing on a nearby rock. “I come with news!”

 

“Forgive me for not cheering,” Ren grumbled, dumping the wood into their sizable pile before turning to address the bird with arms crossed over his chest. “What is it now?”

 

“Lords will bring to the wildlings their scraps,” Driscoll replied, shaking himself of snow that had collected on his feathers. “Ah, what he _means_ is their ‘due payment’, not ‘scraps’. Rude to call them such, being of the former Prince and all.”

 

“Yes, it _is_ ,” the wildling agreed, a growl creeping into his voice. “When?”

 

“This noon, before the snow grows too heavy. Will the wildling come?”

 

“I suppose it’s only right that I do. But I will be bringing my packmates this time,” Ren warned, tail flicking behind him. “I won’t be tricked a second time.”

 

“Driscoll doubts this, but he will tell the Lords your intent,” the raven cackled, pushing up off the rock and into the air once again. “Until then, fool-Ren!

 

Off again before the wildling could put serious thought into maiming him, Driscoll left Ren to round up his pack while he moved on swift wings back to the witches.

 

“I'd sooner deal with Hux at this point than that vulture-sized vermin,” Ren spat, casting a brief glance to the messy pile of wood before he turned to stalk into the cave.

 

At its heart in the chamber with their fire pit, he spotted Hyena and Otter right away, the pair working together to sort strips of dried meat into woven grass baskets. At his appearance, the youngest wildling looked up with a bit of salmon sticking out of her mouth, blushing sheepishly to be found snacking.

 

“Ah! Ren! You're back with wood early…” Otter muttered, trying to gnaw at the meat more politely...at least as far as wildling manners went.

 

“I was just dropping off my first load when we had a messenger stop by,” he grumbled, though couldn't help a faint twitch of the lips in amusement watching her slowly chewing her salmon.

 

“Oh-ho?” Hyena hummed, setting their basket aside to regard Ren curiously. “We don't often get one of those.”

 

“We don't _ever_ get those!” the youngest blurted, almost spitting her snack in the process. “Who was it? What did they want?”

 

“Calm down, Otter, it was that pale terror from the other day,” Ren explained, giving a dry chuff of humor at her enthusiasm. “Driscoll. He came to say that the witches are bringing our payment this afternoon.”

 

Hopping up from the stone shelf she had been perched on, Otter gave a squeal of delight and clapped her hands together.

 

“We get to meet the new Prince and his brother!” she chirped. “Well, wait...is a prince's brother _also_ a prince? Is that how that works?”

 

“I think the sweet one remains just a lord, dear,” Hyena chuckled, their eyes bright with mischief. “So, we are finally to meet your mysterious lover, then, are we?”

 

“Clan _isn’t_ my lover,” Ren hissed, turning pink in the cheeks at the accusation. “I just need help bringing all the meat and bones back home, that’s all. We aren’t there for socializing---”

 

“Or _fun_ , apparently,” Otter murmured under her breath, sending Hyena snickering.

 

“As I was _saying_ ,” he cleared his throat, narrowing his eyes at her for the sass. “We are meeting them at noon. Spread the word to the others, we will need to set out shortly.”

 

“Shall I try to rouse Bear?” Hyena asked, a soft fondness in their smile. “I think the poor dear is just about ready to nod off for the season.”

 

“No, let him rest, it wouldn’t be fair to drag him out for a simple fetch quest,” Ren replied, seeming to relax again. “Lady Heron is also free to stay if the chill doesn’t agree with her, I wouldn’t want to make her uncomfortable.”

 

“As you wish, dear, we’ll have everyone ready soon enough,” the spotted wildling hummed, rising to stretch their arms over their head.

 

Nodding to them, Ren squinted at Otter again as if in warning---she had a bad habit of getting over excited---before wandering out of the chamber and back up through the cave until he stepped into the fresh air. Snow still danced in light flurries around him, not for the first time thankful for his thick fur, as he took to pacing while he waited for the rest of his pack. Anxious to be done with it, to be done with the witches...or at least that’s what he tried to tell himself. In truth, though, there was a part of him that was excited to at least see Clan again, willing to tolerate Hux being there to do so. Already he could taste strawberries on his tongue again, heart giving an odd flutter thinking about the sweet witch, a small smile playing across his lips. Maybe there would be time for just a little bit of _fun_ if he could steal the witch away…

 

Several minutes later found him joined by his pack, Ren pleased to see that Lady Heron was among them. Morning was soon to give way to the afternoon, so with a wordless nod, the dark wildling turned to bound off into the wood, the others following after him. Sodden leaves and snow were cold beneath their feet, but still the pack made their way swiftly through the labyrinth of trees and were closing in on the place where Ren had first crossed paths with Hux. Yet as the pack reached the edge of the clearing, he pulled up short and raised a hand to stop the others, his eyes wide in disbelief. While all around them was dead or dormant as winter dictated, the ring of trees just around the clearing were abundant with green leaves, the grass at their bases lush as well. Stepping out into the unnaturally vibrant space first, Ren squinted in suspicion before his expression softened into pleased awe as a fox appeared before him. It was Clan, of that he was certain, given the unusual size...but he was even bigger than the last time the wildling had seen him in this form.

 

Rather than being similar to a wolf this time, the fox could have easily rivaled a bear, tall enough that he could be ridden upon like the humans did with horses. The idea caused Ren’s cheeks to heat slightly, studying Clan curiously. A green mist seemed to linger about him, forming into wing-like whirls at each of his four paws and around his head like a crown. Upon spotting the wildling, Clan gave a bark of excitement and bounded closer, Ren finding it impossible not to smile as the fox very nearly collided with him. At the last moment, the witch shifted form, pointed ears springing up from copper hair and golden freckles glimmering across his skin as he gave Ren an enthusiastic hug. Clan smelled of sun-warmed berries and wildflowers, his eyes shimmering with honest joy to see Ren again. Forgetting himself in the moment, the wildling wrapped his own arms around the witch and gave him a squeeze, lifting Clan off his feet with a bright chuckle before setting him down again.

 

“I have missed you, Ren,” the witch confessed, stepping back with a sheepish grin, flushing a sweet pink shade.

 

“And I---” the wildling began, but choked on his words as he heard the clearing of a throat behind them.

 

As they had been embracing, the green mist had collected itself into the other witch, Hux standing there with a roll of his eyes at his brother’s eagerness. Arms linked behind his back, he took a few steps closer, small flowering ferns springing to life in the wake of his oddly bare feet as he came to stand before Ren. While the witch had not done much with his usual attire, his head was now crowned by laurels that seemed to have been carved from one of the former Prince’s antlers, golden runes inscribed across the surface.

 

“Good of you to meet with us, Ren,” Hux said with a nod, Clan standing aside with a glance from his brother to the wildling. “I trust that you are well?”

 

“Well enough, yes, thank you…” the wildling replied, unsure of how to properly react to the witch being civil with him. “It seems your crown has settled into place now.”

 

“Indeed it has,” the witch hummed, looking to the abundant life in the clearing with a pleased grin.

 

“You said you were bringing the rest of your pack with you,” Clan added, looking to the wood beyond the treeline. “They don’t have to hide...I would like to meet them.”

 

“Ah, yes, of course,” Ren mumbled, looking away from the new Prince and gave a half smile to the other witch. “I wanted to be sure it wasn’t another trap. I’m sure you’ll forgive my suspicion.”

 

Ren did feel a brief pang of guilt as Clan flinched into a pout at his attempt at a joke, part of him wanting to apologize for it then and there but didn’t get the chance as a veritable commotion broke out at the tree line. Without waiting for his go-ahead, the wildling's pack broke from cover and entered the clearing, much to Clan’s delight. Otter seemed equally enthusiastic, taking hold of Lady Heron’s hand to tug her along gently until she came right up to the long-haired witch, eyes wide and bright.

 

“You must be Clan!” she chirped, her elder chuckling behind her.

 

“I am,” he replied, crouching slightly to be at her eye level, a warm smile playing across his lip. “Who might you be?”

 

“Otter! I like fishing and swimming. This is Lady Heron, she’s blind and very wise, also a very good listener.”

 

“A pleasure to meet you both,” Clan chuckled, heart singing to be the subject of this energy.

 

“Oh, likewise, young Lord,” Lady Heron hummed, beaming as the witch rose from his crouch to take one of her hands and brought it to his lips. “So polite...our Ren might stand to learn a few things from you.”

 

“Is that so? Well, there is _much_ I would like to teach him,” the witch confessed, sending a wink to the scandalized wildling who was gaping over at them with drooped ears.

 

While Lion opted to linger behind and keep watch at the edge of the clearing, Chameleon and Hyena wandered over to join Ren and Hux. The witch inclined his head in greeting, the mossy wildling mirroring the gesture as Hyena watched Hux with a smirk.

 

“Those two over there are Otter and Lady Heron,” Ren explained, scowling as he could see Otter babbling to Clan. “The one by the trees is Lion, and these two are Chameleon and Hyena.”

 

“Charmed to finally meet you, Prince Hux,” Hyena said, bowing at their waist with a flourish. “So happy we could assist such a handsome man rise to power...that crown suits you.”

 

“Strong jaw, sharp eyes,” Chameleon added. “Have the look of a leader.”

 

Hux stood just a bit taller at the praise, noting that Ren looked horribly embarrassed and decided it was a good look for the wildling.

 

“It's my honor to meet you all,” Hux replied, respectfully bowing his head in return. “An impressive pack, I expected nothing less after you were able to track the untrackable. I am in your debt, all of you.”

 

“Oh, _flattery_ ...the other has a smile as warm as gold, but _this_ one has a silver tongue,” Hyena chuckled, their grin only growing. “You're quite welcome.”

 

“Payment still accepted, though,” the mossy wildling offered with a shrug. “Better for filling a belly than sweet words.”

 

“To the point, this one,” Hux hummed with an approving grin. “Clan and I have brought you most of the Prince’s meat and many of the bones, in addition to several small gifts. It’s the least we can do for what you’ve done for us.”

 

“Well, not to say we aren’t grateful for your boon, my Prince, but wasn’t this all because you captured our leader in one of your traps and made him bargain for his life?” hummed the

spotted wildling with a sly wink. “Are you trying to win us over with meat and trinkets?”

 

“I’m fine with that,” Chameleon snorted.

 

“Consider it a small peace offering,” the Prince replied with an almost apologetic smile, glancing to an utterly bewildered Ren for a moment before addressing Hyena again. “While we were not brought together under ideal circumstances, I---we---feel that it wasn’t without purpose. This offering is a gesture of goodwill, toward forming a better relationship between us.”

 

As Hux spoke, Ren was becoming overwhelmed by the sheer oddity of the situation. While he had fully intended to simply collect what was owed to them and retreat back to their cave, the witches were engaging with his pack, making friends...and that’s what was causing him the most discomfort. Hux. _Hux_ was being civil, friendly, and dangerously charming. It was almost as if he were a different person...or at least putting on a show of being one. Frowning at the idea that this might be another one of their tricks, Ren crossed his arms over his broad chest and cleared his throat, doing his best to look indifferent and imposing.

 

“The terms of our deal have all been met. We’ll collect our share and be on our way,” he grumbled, Hyena snickering at the display. “We’ve no need to cross paths again.”

 

“If that is what you wish,” Hux began, brows raised and the dark wildling felt something stir in his chest to see the witch wearing an almost hurt expression. “I had hoped we could try again.”

 

“An alliance!” Clan chimed from some feet away, crouched down again with Otter holding his face with her hands while she inspected his flickering, golden freckles.

 

“Yes, exactly. That’s the term I was looking for,” the other witch chuckled, offering a half-smile that had Ren experiencing that odd fluttering in his chest again. “We _could_ go our separate ways, certainly, but my brother and I talked things over, and wouldn’t we all benefit to be allies?”

 

“Allies?” Ren blurted, brows furrowed. “With _you_?”

 

“With _us_ ,” Clan reminded him softly. “Please, at _least_ hear us out…”

 

“I think you should give them a chance,” Lady Heron laughed softly. “They seem like decent boys.”

 

“You’re too kind,” the long-haired witch said, albeit a bit awkwardly as Otter squished his cheeks with her hands. “We have a lot we’d like to discuss with you, then you can take all the time you need to think about it.”

 

“I am sure you would want to sit down with your pack before any decisions of this magnitude are made,” Hux agreed, arms laced behind his back. “So all we are asking is that you accompany us back home to hear our proposal, then you’d be free to go and think things over.”

 

“But so you don’t worry, just remember that token I gave you,” Clan reminded the wildling. “You can leave anytime you’d want to, we’re not making a go of trapping you _this_ time. Promise.”

 

“You trapped Ren?” Otter gasped, releasing his face with a concerned frown.

 

“Well, I summoned a storm so he couldn’t leave,” he admitted with a sad smile. “It was unkind of me, I admit, but I wanted to keep him to myself just a bit longer.”

 

“Oh, well, that’s okay, then,” she giggled, beaming again. “Was that before or after he mated y---?”

 

“ _OKAY_ !” Ren blurted loudly, cutting Otter off with a flustered expression. “Against my better judgement, I agree to go back with you for one night and hear this alliance proposal. In the morning, I want two of my packmates to come and check to see that I have not been betrayed. Those are _my_ terms.”

 

“I gladly accept your terms, Ren,” Hux said with a nod. “Shall we go, then, before the snow grows too heavy?”

 

“We’ll handle taking our boon back to the cave,” Hyena chuckled as their leader looked as if he were trying to contain an outburst of frustration. “I think this could be a good move for us, being allied with the new Prince.”

 

“It better be worth the headache I’m sure to endure,” Ren grumbled sourly, looking over to the wonderfully eager smile Clan was wearing and sighing; he could only be _so_ annoyed, seeing how happy his decision made the long-haired witch.

 

With Otter practically clinging to him again, Clan showed her to several canvas sacks he and his brother had brought with them. He was impressed when she was able to heft one of them over her shoulder to carry, handing off another one to Chameleon and the third to Hyena as they came over to help. Satisfied that the wildlings were set, the long-haired witch rejoined his brother and Ren while the pack began to depart the way that they had come.

 

“Do try to behave,” Lady Heron advised as she passed, following after the younger wildlings. “We want to have the Prince on our side, after all.”

 

“Don’t tell him to _behave_ ! If he does _that_ , he’s never gonna mate either of them!” Otter complained just loud enough that everyone in the clearing could hear.

 

Growling low in his throat as he felt his face heat up, Ren glared after the giggling wildling as she bounded past the ring of trees and far away from his reprimand. Within a few moments, the whole pack was lost into the gloom of the wood, leaving him in blessed silence in the clearing with the twins. The near-constant teasing from the other wildlings had become tiresome, even if they meant well by it, leaving Ren actually eager to be away from them for a night. A hand touched his shoulder and he looked back around and saw that it was Clan, the witch smiling in his dreamy sort of way with his head tilted to one side.

 

“Come now, let’s get you home,” Clan all but purred, sending a wave of warm sparks down Ren’s spine, unable to keep himself from grinning with a nod.

 

“I have a few things I will need to tend to once we arrive, so I hope you will excuse me if I leave you to my brother’s care, Ren,” Hux spoke as he took the lead away from the clearing, the ground springing to life with lush grass beneath his feet. “Our discussion is not urgent, so I invite you to make yourself comfortable.”

 

“Fine by me. I think I just want to curl up by a fire, honestly,” the wildling confessed with a shrug, startling as the long-haired witch tangled one of his clawed hands between slender fingers and gave a squeeze.

 

“I have an even better idea,” Clan hummed, leaning up to murmur near to Ren’s ear. “To warm you up, I mean.”

 

Swallowing thickly around a sudden lump in his throat, images swam to the surface of the wildling’s mind of their parting fling in the forest, a thrill sending his heart fluttering to wonder if the witch had something along those lines in mind for him. Ren would consider himself a liar if he claimed he hadn’t dreamed of it, hungry for the feel of the other’s skilled fingers on him again…

 

“Just be sure you help Ren clean his feet before you two get up to anything, I don’t need muddy tracks all over the house,” Hux snorted, glancing back over his shoulder at them with a sly expression that gave the wildling pause.

 

Did he know what they had done? Had Clan told him? As far as Ren could tell, the two brothers got along well and seemed to share everything...so it would be a reasonable guess that Hux would have found out about the situation. He didn’t _seem_ upset about it, at least, which was a good sign. At least, so the wildling hoped, knowing that while Clan was very open with expressing his emotions, his brother wore a mask at all times. If he didn’t wake up with a knife in his heart, Ren would consider that a clear show of Hux’s blessings.

 

Winding through the wood, the trees eventually began to thin again and Hux lead them into their clearing, the vast willow almost waving in greeting as her unseasonably green branches were tossed about in the snowy wind. While white drifts had begun to form across the open field deep enough to reach their ankles, the Prince plunged forward without worry as his passive trait melted the snow into a path for them. An easy path, Ren noticed...what had happened to all their traps? Frowning briefly at the oddity, the wildling soon put it out of his mind as they reached the porch, Hux gesturing for the door to open for them and already Ren could feel the warmth radiating from within the cozy interior. Clan tugged him along across the threshold and gave a wave to his brother, lips pulled into a charming grin that was deliciously mischievous.

 

“Take your time, brother, I’ll make sure our guest is comfortable,” he chimed, urging Ren to follow him down a hallway he had not explored on his previous visit.

 

Rolling his eyes, Hux made sure the door was shut and locked before turning to leave them to whatever trouble it was his brother had come up with. Part of Hux happy to see such light radiating from Clan...but not without a touch of jealousy. Patience, he reminded himself as he mounted the stairs, lips twitching at the corners: all he needed to be was patient for just a bit longer.

  
  


Laughing softly, Clan had let go of Ren’s hand and was instead skipping along down the hall, inviting the wildling to give chase. Ren enjoyed the game immensely, watching how fluidly the witch moved, heart skipping a beat each time the other would cast a glance at him with his deep blue eyes. But just as Ren nearly caught Clan, the witch suddenly leapt through a doorway and scampered down a set of stone stairs, the wildling soon following after. Marveling that the stones were somehow warm, even below-ground, the air became humid and carried the scent of wet rocks. Brows knitting, Ren opened his mouth to ask where Clan was leading them, but fell short as the stairs emptied out into a cavern that was carved into the stone beneath the roots of the willow. Her roots breached the stone in places, curling around stalactites and hugging the walls of the chamber, but Ren’s eyes drifted to the pool of water at the center. Steam hung across the surface of the pond and the heat Ren felt beneath his feet and in the air seemed to be thanks to this hot spring that lay hidden beneath the witches’ home. Hanging baubles held candles that lent a dim, intimate light to the space and even just standing there, the wildling could feel the tension beginning to leave his limbs.

 

“Go on,” Clan urged, smiling at Ren with crinkled eyes. “The center of the spring is just about as deep as your shoulders, but we’ve worked the sides so there’s a ledge to sit on. I’ll go get one of my soaps to clean your fur and hair with.”

 

“Clean my... _oh_ ,” Ren mumbled, blinking at the witch with flushed cheeks. “You, uh, don’t have to do that, I can---”

 

“But I want to,” the other insisted, and the wildling wasn’t about to argue.

 

While Clan wandered off toward a set of shelves that had been cut into the smooth walls, Ren did as he was told and waded into the spring, a deep sigh of contentment escaping him as the warm water wrapped around his ankles. It was pure, liquid bliss as the wildling moved deeper, finding one of the ledges to sit on and basked in the heat as it rose to just beneath his chest. Clan joined him a few moments later, sitting cross-legged on the floor behind Ren with a simple wooden cup, a comb that had been carved from bone, and a few glass bottles filled with colorful liquids. Trusting that the witch knew what he was doing, the wildling closed his eyes as Clan began to undo the sloppy braid that held the knucklebone to set it aside carefully so it wouldn’t get lost.

 

“I’m glad you kept my gift,” he hummed, moving on to check the rest of dark mane of hair for any other hidden braids.

 

“Of course I did,” Ren chuckled, leaning back comfortably as the other worked.

 

Satisfied that there weren’t any other decorations to be wary of, Clan dunked the cup into the pool and used it to begin wetting down Ren’s hair, making sure to avoid spilling water down his face or into his ears. When it was suitably saturated, the witch uncorked one of the bottles and the air filled with the pleasant scent of mint and lemongrass. At first, Ren recoiled at the substance as Clan poured it onto the top of his head, but any complaint was lost the second the other man began working it into his scalp. Within moments, the wildling was purring deep in his chest, practically mashing his head into Clan’s fingers as the witch coaxed the soap into a rich lather. Whatever it was made with---and Ren was certain it had been crafted by his companion---it worked miracles on the many tangles that he never could quite work out on his own with just water and his own fingers.

 

“Mmm, that feels really good…” he murmured drowsily.

 

“I can tell. You sound like a cat,” Clan chuckled fondly, leaning down to briefly kiss one of the wildling’s temples before returning to his work. “Your poor hair was a bit of a mess. I’ll have to send some of my soaps back with you, I think you’d be much more comfortable when you sleep if it isn’t all tangled.”

 

A small frown crossed Ren’s lips to hear Clan talk of him leaving already, huffing through his nose. Of course he knew he would be returning to his pack the next day, but for the time being, Ren didn’t want to dwell on that. He wanted to think of nothing else but the present moment, memorizing the way Clan’s nails scrubbed at his scalp in little circular patterns, wondering if they meant anything in particular. Once the soap was fully worked in and had done its trick, Clan used the cup again to rinse the lather from Ren’s hair, squeezing at handfuls of the locks to coax free the last traces of it. Pleased with the results, the witch ran the comb through it several times before stepping away for a moment again, bringing back a bowl filled with colorful beads. Selecting a handful of gold and red painted spheres, Clan hummed to himself as he began to braid the decorations into Ren’s hair while it was still wet and easy to work with.

 

“What are you adding?” the wildling asked curiously, eyes still shut as he enjoyed the pampering he was receiving.

 

“Just some of my beads. I picked some I think you’ll like,” the witch explained with a fond smile as he added the knucklebone to the end of one of them.

 

“I’m sure I will. _You_ picked them, after all,” Ren chuckled, leaving Clan blushing.

 

Fingers weaving with a practiced ease, Clan soon had Ren's hair plaited with braids, some left on their own while others he linked together. The witch traced a finger along one of the braids before standing, stepping into the spring and wading in front of the wildling with a satisfied smile as he surveyed his handiwork. Scooping up a handful of water, Clan willed it into an almost solid, perfectly reflective disk that he rotated to face Ren. Leaning forward, the wildling turned his head to and fro to study his hair with quiet awe. He honestly couldn't remember the last time it felt so light and clean, seeing the sheen of it in the light of the bauble lanterns. Clan had taken a tangled mess and made something quite striking. Ren could scarcely believe he was looking at himself.

 

“Does it look alright?” the witch asked anxiously, lowering the disk back into the spring as he waited for Ren's verdict.

 

Rather than reply with just his words, the wildling reached out to take hold of Clan's waist and pulled him closer, only satisfied once he had the other man straddling his lap. It thrilled him to have the other's warm weight on him, gaze lingering on how the wet silk clung to the witch’s shapely legs...and noted the very appetizing fact that Clan had nothing else on beneath his skirt.

 

“It looks beautiful,” Ren murmured with a hungry sort of grin, squeezing the other’s hips with a strong grip. “Just like you.”

 

Cheeks flaring a wonderful shade of rosy pink, Clan cupped his hands to either side of the wildling’s neck and gave a blissfully fond smile. The witch had hoped to rekindle the flame they had lit between them last they were together, but he hadn't counted on Ren being the one to take charge so soon. Leaning close, Clan nuzzled the tip of his nose to Ren's, the wildling’s ears perking at the gesture and Ren rumbled a note of approval.

 

“Do you mean that?” Clan murmured, thumbs stroking along the curve of the other's jaw. “You think I'm beautiful?”

 

“I do,” hummed the wildling, lightly running his claws up the witch's sides, chuckling as Clan shivered. “A ray of summer's sunlight spun into a mortal form that I can touch--”

 

Tilting his head, Ren nosed at Clan's temple, breathing in deeply before giving a pleased sigh.

 

“--that I can smell,” he continued, murmuring beside the witch's ear. “And--”

 

Smirking to himself, the wildling ducked down suddenly and dragged his rough tongue lewdly over Clan's throat, purring when he felt the other man's pulse jump against it along with a soft gasp from parted lips.

 

“--that I can taste. It's strawberries, plump and red in the sun...green grass under a gentle breeze,” Ren said, a longing in his voice as he spoke against wet skin. “It's wildflowers and honey dripping from the comb. I want more.”

 

But when he tried to sneak a kiss from the witch's lips, Clan raised a hand to place a finger between them, beaming as Ren actually groaned in annoyance.

 

“Greedy thing,” Clan tutted, leaning his chest against the wildling’s as he reached out for one of the other bottles on the stone basin. “I haven't finished grooming you yet...and I think it's _my_ turn to do the tasting.”

 

“Oh,” was all Ren managed to reply when the other treated him to a sly wink, lost in the mischievous glint in Clan's eyes.

 

Leaning back again, the witch held the other’s gaze as he opened the bottle and poured out a pale blue liquid into his palm that flowed like warm sap, rubbing it between his hands until a thick foam formed. This mixture smelled of the crispness of winter snow and pine, Ren sniffing curiously even before Clan began to work it into the patches of fur on either shoulder, his eyes fluttering shut at the treat of feeling those fingers on him again. Slowly, the witch would move on to the other’s arms, taking care to scrub between each finger---even picking at some dirt beneath the wildling’s claws---and made his way lower and lower until he reached Ren’s waist.

 

“Well, what now?” Ren huffed in amusement, peeking an eye open at Clan. “Shall I stand for you?”

 

“No need,” hummed the witch, glancing up at the wildling for a moment before pouring more of the soap into one hand, curling fingers around it to slip beneath the water without losing most of it. “I can reach you just fine like you are. Just relax for me. You’re our guest, after all.”

 

“As you wish.”

 

 

* * *

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

Closing his eye once more, Ren gave a deep sigh when Clan plunged his soapy fingers into the fur over his hips, feeling heat begin to pool in his belly to know the other’s touch was so close to his...and then--- _oh gods_ \---the witch remembered exactly where to find his sheathed cock, a clever palm urging it out. Well, so much for the rest of his bath...not that Ren was going to complain.

 

“Would you like to see a magic trick?” Clan giggled, though nothing about his expression was innocent.

 

“ _All_ of your tricks are magic,” the wildling groaned, but pried open his eyes to look at the witch with a raised brow. “But...I suppose you have me at your mercy. It better be good.”

 

“Oh trust me, you’ll _love_ it.”

 

With one hand curled comfortably around Ren’s shaft, stroking lazily, the other raised above the surface of the water and Clan brought his index finger nail to the side of his own neck. Drawing a crescent shape on either side, the wildling’s eyes soon widened with wonder as the skin began to ripple and split where the witch had gestured as it reformed into a pair of gills. Even the golden freckles along Clan’s cheeks altered themselves into patches of scales, leaving Ren gaping just long enough to give a jump of surprise as the witch dropped himself from the wildling’s lap and knelt on the bottom of the pool. Bracing his free hand on one of Ren’s knees, Clan settled himself between the other’s legs and drew the other man’s cock to his lips with the other.

 

“ _Oh_ …” the wildling moaned, laying his head back with a shudder when the witch began to suck coaxingly at the head, knowing he had to have been dripping already.

 

It was a shame he couldn’t hear what Clan was doing, but the witch more than made up for the lack of sounds by kneading his fingers into Ren’s thigh while he lavished the hard knob of flesh with his soft tongue. Letting one hand lay across his belly, the wildling tangled the other into Clan’s hair, the pads of his fingers kneading and pressing encouragingly against the back of the witch’s head. Ren would have been content with the simple suckling and use of tongue the other man seemed _quite_ good at---Ren idly wondered when he had learned this particular trick---but Clan had much more ambitious things in mind. Eyes rolling back before having to close them altogether, Ren fought to keep himself from bucking his hips as the witch opened his mouth further to begin drawing the length of his cock into his throat. He wasn’t sure if Clan could handle all of it, but soon enough it was hard to think or worry about it as the wildling became lost in the slick heat inside the other man’s mouth. Clan hummed, and while Ren couldn’t _hear_ the sound, he most certainly _felt_ it, fingers giving a firm shove at the back of the witch’s head in a show of appreciation for the vibration.

 

Encouraged by the touch, Clan closed his eyes and pushed himself further, heart fluttering to taste the wildling on his tongue at last, mourning the loss of smell while under the water but there would surely be time for that later. It was new and unexpected: a saltiness mixed with a faint tang of what the witch could best describe as ‘wildling’. Almost like the smoke rising from a tree struck by lightning and certainly twice as thrilling, Clan stroked with his hand the few inches he couldn’t quite handle just yet. If he worked up to it, the witch was confident he could swallow Ren whole...but suddenly Ren went tense. Wondering if the wildling was getting near his release and wanted to warn him, Clan backed off of the other man’s cock and peeked his head just above the surface to ask.

 

 

* * *

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

“Ren, are you--?” Clan began, but stopped as he saw Ren’s gaze was locked on the distant stairs.

 

Face turning a fearsome red at the sound of footfalls on the stone, Clan thanked the gods for the warning and snatched a hand out for the discarded bottle of soap. With an apologetic smile to Ren when the wildling looked down at him in panicked confusion, the witch shoved the bottle into one of the other’s hands and winked before his body turned invisible before ducking beneath the surface. Staring at the spot where he knew the vanished man to be, Ren clumsily dumped some of the soap into his hands and made sure there was a decent film of suds over the water to obscure his current state of arousal just in time for Hux to appear from the main floor of the house.

 

“There you are,” the witch hummed, offering a faint smile as he nodded in greeting. “Enjoying our springs?”

 

“They...um...yes? They’re nice,” Ren blurted, knowing his face had to be splotchy at this point and hoped the other would attribute it to the heat of the water.

 

“Good. I was...well, I was actually looking for my brother,” Hux stated, casting his gaze about with a somewhat perplexed expression before looking back to the other man. “Did he leave you here alone? I see that he must have been here, I recognize his handiwork there in your hair...”

 

“No. I mean, yes! Yes, I...sorry, I forgot,” the wildling fumbled over his words awkwardly, still half lost in a fog of pleasure. “I dozed off, I think. Clan said he was tired and wanted to lay down. I’m not sure where. His room, maybe?”

 

“Ah, I see. He _does_ tire easily at times, and today has been a bit exciting,” Hux agreed, a fondness touching his expression that left Ren’s chest feeling tight. “I’ll have to check on him later. When you’re finished with your bath, your room should be ready if you would like to rest as well.”

 

“Thanks for...uh...that,” Ren mumbled, trying to offer a polite smile as he felt Clan’s fingers give his ankle a gentle squeeze. “I think I will. When I’m done here.”

 

“Of course,” the witch said with a nod, lingering for a moment longer before turning on a heel to return the way he had come.

 

But just as he reached the base of the stairs, Hux paused and looked back over at Ren, as if studying him. Placing a foot on the landing, the witch offered a half-smile that seemed to be the most genuine he had ever given toward the wildling.

 

“Those braids suit you,” he stated simply before taking the first stair and made his way back to the main floor.

 

Only when the footfalls had faded away completely to some other part of the house did Ren heave a sigh, not having realized he had been holding his breath. Once he was certain it was safe, the wildling reached out blindly through the water and gave a ‘ _come here_ ’ motion with his hand to signal to Clan that he could come up again. Form swimming back into visibility, the witch gave an awkward laugh, rubbing at the back of his neck as gills and scales melted back into smooth flesh again.

 

“That was a _bit_ too close for my liking,” Clan confessed, moving to sit on the ledge beside Ren.

 

“Just when it was getting good, too,” the wildling grumbled, looking to the witch with a needy shadow in his gaze. “Do you think we could still..?”

  
“It might be a bit too risky now, especially if Hux is prowling about.”

 

“I _did_ tell him you were resting, I guess if he can’t find you anywhere, he might get suspicious.”

 

“Well, then I suppose it’s decided,” Clan laughed, turning to place a sweet kiss to Ren’s cheek as he stood to exit the spring. “I better sneak up to my chambers in case he _does_ come to look in on me. He’s good for worrying over me, but his timing is _terrible_.”

 

“Agreed,” the wildling sighed, shoulders slumping in defeat. “But...that was amazing, while it lasted.”

 

“Next time, I promise to finish what I start,” the witch chuckled, squeezing some of the water from his skirt before using small pulses of heat from his palms to dry himself off.

 

Sulking in the spring, not even the wonderful, unending warmth of the water could quite comfort Ren now as he tried to will himself out of the arousal Clan had invoked. As if sensing his displeasure, the witch knelt down on the stone floor and reached a hand out to gently nab the wildling’s chin, turning his head until he could place a sweet kiss to his pouted lips. It was enough to bring back a little color to his cheeks and Ren gave a slight smile at the affection.

 

“You know I am true to my word. I’m just as hungry as you are, but for the moment, my appetite is spoiled,” Clan assured him.

 

“Maybe I’ll just have to come find you later once your brother has gone to bed and see to it that you are,” Ren growled with a sharp grin that left the witch shivering.

 

“I’ll be happy for a bit of late night dessert. Until then, though, just let yourself soak a bit longer. I’ve set out a towel for you to dry off with when you’re finished.”

 

Rising to his feet, Clan danced his fingers across the length of one of Ren’s braids with a smile before padding off to the stairs and ascending, leaving the wildling on his own for real this time. What terrible timing...he closed his eyes and slumped down lower into the water, letting it rise up to his chin. The promise for another try at least eased the disappointment, but that still left him struggling with a half-hard cock that didn’t quite want to fit back inside. Maybe he could just wrap the towel around his waist and sneak up to his room and take a nap, letting it diminish on its own. There was also always the option of using his own hand to finish himself off, but after feeling the witch’s wet mouth wrapped around him, Ren didn’t think he wanted to sully the memory by trying.

 

Lingering for half an hour longer, the wildling finally dragged himself out of the water when he felt himself beginning to drift off, unceremoniously shaking himself of the dampness in his fur before seeking out the towel Clan had left him. It was soft and smelled faintly of soap, Ren using it to blot as much of the water as he could from his hair and limbs, taking special care that he wouldn’t be dripping everywhere and leaving footprints in his wake. Satisfied that he was decently dried off, the wildling slung the towel around his hips and did his best to tie it so it wouldn’t slip loose as he walked. When he strode to the stairs and began to make his way up, Ren noted with lingering wonder that the bauble lanterns all began to dim themselves at his departure, still enthralled by all the little workings of magic that could be found in the witches’ home.

 

The main floor was at a cozy temperature that left Ren feeling no chill against the slight dampness that still lingered in his fur and hair. The bath had left him in good spirits and his muscles felt loose after much of his tension had bled into the spring itself. The wildling hummed to himself as he ambled along through hallways that were becoming dangerously familiar to him. It wouldn’t do well to get used to this place, to the pampering Clan seemed insistent in lavishing on him, nor to get addicted to the carnal pleasures, either. Hux’s words came back to him, a quiet echo through his lazy thoughts: this was no place for a wildling.

 

But...was a home like this so wrong to want for? The witches weren’t human, at least not completely.  Their house was almost grown from the earth rather than built, after all, so was it so different than his pack’s cave in that respect? The willow had provided for them and the brothers paid her respect for her gifts. They didn’t cut her down or harm her to establish themselves in the clearing. Questions came to Ren of how long they had lived here, when had they left their childhood home and why, what happened to their parents, had they had lovers in the past, did they have lovers _now_? It wasn’t for him to ask, but the curiosity was there nonetheless: the wildling wanted to know more about them.

 

It didn’t take Ren long to find his way to the upper level via the spiraling staircase that danced around the trunk of the willow, smiling when he realized that she wasn’t playing tricks on him anymore and had allowed him passage without altering her layout around him. Feet quiet on the lush green rug that ran the length of the hallway, the wildling approached the room he remembered sleeping in nearly a week ago, but paused a few feet away when he noticed the door was open and light spilled out from within. Noise and movement within told him that someone was there, leaving the wildling to cautiously peek around the edge of the frame to see who it was. Surprise widened his eyes as Ren stepped inside and surveyed that it was Hux, but more importantly that the space had been drastically altered...in fact, he had caught the witch in the process of finishing the changes, hands raised toward a newly forming spire of stone.

 

Where once it had been a simple spare room with a bed and table warmed by a fireplace, the witch had managed to recreate the interior of a cave somehow: the walls, floor and ceiling were stone with stalactites and craggy alcoves that could easily be used as shelves. Here and there were growths of luminous fungi and the fireplace was tucked into a stone grotto, flickering with a pleasing blue flame that was easy on Ren’s eyes. The table remained, situated on a throw rug along with a set of three chairs and adorned with a bowl of nuts and dried fruits along with a pitcher of water and a cup. The bed was gone altogether now, replaced by a circular space carved down into the floor that had been piled with furs and cushions into a nest of sorts, all beneath an outcropping of rock and further sheltered by a curtain made from woven grass and vines. The space even smelled like a cave should, the wildling sniffing at the pleasant aroma of wet stone and moss as he stood just through the threshold. It was...perfect. _Too_ perfect.

 

“This is unexpected,” Ren finally said, arms crossing over his broad chest as his eyes bored into the back of Hux’s head.

 

“Is it? I imagined you would be much more comfortable in something that was more like home,” the witch chuckled, glancing over his shoulder. “How was your bath?”

 

“Fine,” was his clipped response, expression growing stormy with suspicion. “Seems a waste of time and effort to make this room into a cave when I’m only staying the night.”

 

“An exercise in magic is never a waste. It gives me something new to try,” Hux countered, turning to give Ren his full attention. “And I’ve no idea how long you intend to stay, it depends on how our talks go. Alliances are nothing to rush into, after all.”

 

“I agreed to a night, I _will_ leave tomorrow to return to my pack.”

 

“As you wish. You are no prisoner here,” the witch chuckled, though his smile took on a strained edge to it. “But the room will always be open to you, as will the door.”

 

“Why?”

 

“That is the nature of being allies, offering hospitali--” Hux began, but cut off as Ren waved a hand dismissively to the explanation.

  
“Not that. Why are _you_ being so nice to me all of a sudden?” the wildling clarified.

 

“Well, again, as I was saying, that is the nature of being allies. If that is the goal, it would not do well for me to be anything but hospitable to you, would it?”

 

“I’m not a fool,” Ren snorted. “You want something from us. Why else would you be after an alliance with a pack of wildlings?”

 

Smile falling completely, Hux looked at the wildling with growing annoyance. He had been doing his best to be polite and considerate, but Ren somehow still managed to see through it and call him out on the underlying motives of his display. Arms lacing behind his back, Hux scowled, which only seemed to cause the wildling to smirk in victory.

 

“You all have an intimate knowledge of these lands,” he said impatiently. “I know that you keep an eye on the humans who live at our borders and other comings and goings in the wood.”

 

“How you know that, I must wonder...have you been keeping an eye on _us_?”

 

“Not so much on purpose, but our familiars have made us aware of your activities when they have crossed paths with you. As to your insistence of not being a fool, my brother’s bird might argue otherwise.”

 

“Driscoll,” Ren spat the name with a growl. “Yes, we’ve been acquainted, but I’ve yet to see _your_ pet.”

 

“She isn’t a pet, nor are you likely to see her unless she wishes it,” Hux fired back, bristling at the term ‘pet’. “She tells me she has seen your wildlings hunting and the humans fear your kind. If I am to keep them from encroaching onto our lands any further than they already have, I will need help. I may be powerful, but I cannot be everywhere at once. That is the purpose of our alliance, so you can stop being so paranoid of my intent.”

 

“Is it, though?” the wildling wondered aloud, tail swaying behind him. “This seems like a topic we might have easily discussed in the clearing earlier and been done with it. By bringing me here alone, having your brother tend to me with a bath, and now this...I can’t shake the feeling that you are simply fattening me for slaughter, so to speak. So, witch, why not tell me what this is _really_ about?”

 

Things were not going well, of this Hux was certain. Fearing that he would lose any good graces by covering his ass with more half-truths or offerings, the witch quickly thought of one way that he might yet win Ren’s trust. If he couldn’t, there would be no way of presenting his proposal without meeting immediate rejection and losing his only chance at taking the crown peacefully.

 

“Very well, Ren. You aren’t a fool,” he said with a sigh, shaking his head. “We brought you here to talk of forming a bond, certainly, but not just between we and your pack...but between you and I, specifically.”

 

Silence crashed between them as Ren’s smug expression fell to one of a lost pup.

 

“...What?” the wildling finally managed to blurt, face scrunched up in a confused squint.

 

“I propose a marriage,” Hux continued, gritting his teeth at how the other seemed to flinch at the words.

 

“You said you wanted an _alliance_!” Ren shouted, face turning a bruised red.

 

“Marriage _is_ a form of alliance, Ren, try to calm down.”

 

“No?!” the wildling laughed ruefully. “You’re out of your mind if you think I would even consider that. What possible reason would you even have to ask, anyway? I’m morbidly curious.”

 

“Give me an order, and I’ll show you,” Hux said with a calmness that unnerved the other man.

 

“An order? Why?”

 

“Just do it,” the witch huffed with a scowl. “Put some force into your voice, for good measure.”

 

It was such a strange request and Ren could scarcely imagine what it had to do with marriage or why Hux would even suggest such a thing between them. Still, the man waited expectantly for the wildling to do what he said.

  
“Very well, I’ll humor you,” Ren scoffed with a roll of his eyes. “I order you to kneel, witch.”

 

When nothing happened, he opened his mouth to call the witch a rather unflattering assortment of names, but Hux grumbled under his breath as he shook his head.

 

“Pathetic. You think this is a joke? I said to put some force into it, wildling!” the witch snapped at Ren. “You’re a leader, aren’t you? Try again, but imagine that I was one of your packmates being unruly, I’m sure that has to happen from time to time.”

 

Bristling at the attitude Hux was giving him, Ren growled low in his throat and bared his sharp teeth in a snarl.

 

“I said to **k _neel_**!”

 

Much to Ren’s surprise---and a fair amount of aroused horror---the witch shuddered and seemed to struggle against his own body’s wishes before finally falling down on one knee before the wildling, glaring up at him with a dusting of pink across his cheeks. In that brief moment, it reminded him of Clan, chest fluttering with butterflies at the sight. Try as he might, Hux could not resist the command, nor could he move from the position of his own accord.

 

“ _Explain_ ,” Ren demanded, and the words began to spill from Hux’s lips freely, without his usual flare for hiding his true meanings.

 

“As part of our bargain, I asked you to kill the former Prince for me so that I might assume rule of the wood myself. However, I mistakenly thought that a kill in my name would qualify it as _my_ kill and pass the crown to me. When you left us a week ago, you spoke with my brother at length and compelled him to reveal what we are by making him show you his true form. Realizing what had happened, Clan came back to tell me of my error.”

 

“But, the clearing...you walk with the path of living growth, just as the Prince did!” Ren blurted, eyes wide with growing anxiety, guilt making his stomach turn to realize he had forced Clan to do _anything_ against his will.

 

“All just for show. My brother and I used our own magic to do that,” Hux confessed, hands curling into fists. “The path of living growth was a trait unique to that Prince, but I gambled that you wouldn't know that each one has been unique. The crown was worn by a wolf many years ago when my parents were young: her fur turned to bark and her howl could summon flocks of crows.”

 

“You can't be serious…” the wildling groaned, raising a hand to tug at his hair but stopped short, remembering the braids at the last second. “That means..?”

 

“The oldest law of the wood holds fast, Ren. You keep what you kill. As it stands, you're the new Prince. Soon enough, word will spread and the denizens of the wood will look to you for answers and leadership.”

 

“I didn't ask for this, I don't want to be the Prince!” Ren hissed, glaring at the witch. “Take the crown from me. Use your magic or something, _anything_ , just get it away from me.”

 

“The old laws are beyond my scope to alter or defy, even with Clan's help. There's nothing to be done about removing it,” Hux muttered, part of him feeling guilty for the wildling’s distress. “But Clan and I came up with a solution to at least lessen the burden.”

 

“The burden...you mean the burden _you_ shouldered me with?” Ren snarled, reaching down to haul the witch to his feet by the front of his shirt. “So, what...your grand solution is to _marry_ me? A shared crown is still shared, witch, and I never wanted it to begin with! Find another way!”

 

“Is marrying me really _that_ repugnant to you?” Hux growled back, slapping the wildling’s hand away. “There _is_ another way, but fortunately for you, Clan took slaying you myself off the table.”

 

“Oh, I'm sure that was your first thought, wasn't it?”

 

“Yes, in fact, it _was_ . I'd even make a lovely crown out your bones in honor of your sacrifice,” the witch hummed with an ugly smirk. “I told Clan that you would never agree to this, but for his sake, I promised to _try_. You're predictably dense. I could have easily kept you in the dark about this, you know.”

 

“Is that supposed to somehow make me more likely to trust you? If not for you, I wouldn't be in this mess, why would I lower myself further by marrying you?” the wildling snorted.

 

“War with the humans is coming and unless you happen to have plans on how to deal with that, you need to be allied with someone who would rather see you and your pack survive. A marriage between us entails nothing more than showing support for your each other in matters of the kingdom, no one needs to know we hate each other behind closed doors.”

 

Ren fell silent for a long time, tail lashing out behind him in anger as he considered the witch's words. He hated that it made sense. He _really_ hated that it was a good strategic move for them both. But most of all, Ren despised himself for wanting to yield to the fantasy of living with the witches and now having the perfect excuse to do so.

 

“I won't abandon my pack to be your live-in loophole,” the wildling finally declared, a sentiment that left Hux giving an exasperated sigh.

 

“Do you not recall Clan saying there is space enough for them all here? It would be child's play to adapt more of our unused rooms for them. Gods, or we could just drag your entire cave here onto our land if you're _so_ against being indoors. Whatever would please the Prince.”

 

The witch gave a dramatic bow at the waist, causing Ren to bristle with a low growl of warning.

 

“You would have me uproot my pack from what they've always known and bring them here just because you missed one very crucial detail in our bargain?”

 

“I ask only that you consider it, you furry oaf!” Hux shot back, frustration clear in the knit of his brows. “No one is forcing you to do _anything_ , and I've already given you an advantage over us by revealing your ability to command denizens of the wood. You could order me to throw myself in the fire and I might not be able to resist, but you _won't_. That is my trust I give you. Like it or not---with the assumed emphasis on ‘not’---we will need each other to prevent the wood falling into the wrong hands.”

 

When Ren said nothing, the witch plunged on.

 

“After a time comes that the humans are no longer worth worrying over, you would be free to leave me. I have no desire to keep what isn't mine, after all.”

 

“And if I refuse? Will you kill me for the crown?” Ren asked, his voice quiet, eyes narrowed.

 

“I'll find my own way to proceed without the crown,” the witch snorted, tilting his chin up with a sneer. “But don't expect my help if the humans go after you.”

 

Tail stilling in its writhing, the wildling studied Hux with a wide storm of conflicted emotions, finding the confidence in the other man equally obnoxious and attractive. Both witches were quite odd, if you asked Ren, but there was something about them that kept drawing him back despite better judgement and his best attempts to ignore their magnetism. Grumbling under his breath, he looked aside and watched the fireplace for a few moments before finally speaking again.

 

“This is ridiculous, I hope you understand that.”

 

“From the moment I saw you in my unicorn trap,” Hux chuffed, hope tinting his tone. “Fate has thrown us together, it seems.”

 

“I will discuss this with my pack,” Ren stated firmly. “No decision of this magnitude is made without their council.”

 

“Of course. I wouldn't expect you to make a move behind their backs. Though, they _do_ seem to like us well enough, I struggle to imagine them being upset about it…” the witch teased smugly.

 

“Watch it,” the wildling warned, frowning to hide the slight amusement at the memory of his pack’s enthusiasm to meet the witches. “I will also require time to...test things out, this living with you and Clan. At least until the winter thaw. The humans will not risk a move in the snow, they'll be too busy not freezing to death or starving. If we haven't murdered each other by then, then _maybe_ …”

 

“Maybe... _what_?” Hux goaded, a sly sort of grin spreading across his lips as he took a step closer to the wildling.

 

“You know ‘what’,” Ren grumbled, face beginning to warm as he refused to acknowledge the smug look the witch was giving him.

 

“Now now, don't be _shy_ , Ren. You can say it. If we don't murder each other, then maybe you'll..?”

 

With another few steps, Hux closed the distance between them and took hold of the front of the wildling’s towel to give it a playful tug. Ren actually gasped and grabbed hold of the witch's wrist, leaving him with raised brows and the wildling with a flustered expression. Another little tug found Ren's grip tightening further.

 

“Why _are_ you wearing a towel like a skirt?” the witch asked, head tilting to one side as he maintained his grip. “Were you really that concerned about my floors? I'm touched.”

 

“Shut up and let go of it,” the wildling grumbled. “I can do whatever I want, I'm a Prince.”

 

“What a time to embrace your role. But riddle me this, wildling: if you _really_ wanted me to let go, why not order me to?”

 

“Don't be stupid,” Ren huffed, turning pink up to his pointed ears. “That would be wrong.”

 

Hux hummed thoughtfully at that and his grin only widened, but the witch seemed merciful to leave that particular topic alone for the time being. Without letting go of the towel, he raised his other hand to take hold of the wildling’s chin, pulling him down until they were at eye-level.

 

“You still haven’t answered me. Wildlings don’t generally wear clothing, what could have possibly possessed you to don a towel?”

 

“Modesty, I guess,” Ren admitted, swallowing at the grip on his chin, noting that the witch had soft fingers.

 

“Whatever for? Your anatomy is different than ours, it’s not as if _it_ were just hanging out for the world to---”

 

But he trailed off, eyebrows nearly joining his hairline as the wildling turned a deeper shade of red and glanced to the side to avoid Hux’s gaze. Well...that was appetizing.

 

“ _Oh_...well well, seems you enjoyed your bath a bit more than expected,” Hux purred, brushing his thumb over the other’s chin absently. “Shame to let it go to waste.”

 

“I _had_ hoped to find my room unoccupied,” Ren countered, leaning back from the witch’s hand in order to nip at the thumb. “But here you are.”

 

“Yes, here I am, the heathen witch you hate, full of unfortunate news and kicking the hornet’s nest that is your temper. What a show of restraint that you haven’t mauled me yet.”

 

“I never said I hated you. You just piss me off,” the wildling corrected him.

 

“The feeling is mutual, but that still leaves the matter of your dick.”

 

“Wh...what?”

 

Sighing with exasperation, Hux danced his fingers along the hem of the towel as he snatched hold of Ren’s chin again, yanking him down until their lips almost touched, the wildling’s ears springing upright.

 

“You carry a lot of tension in your belly, I can practically taste it. Our...negotiations would go so much smoother if you did away with it.”

 

“And how do you propose I do _that_ , witch?” Ren asked, voice low as he licked his dry lips. “You’ve only made it worse.”

 

“Have I? What a terrible host I am, you must allow me to make things right,” Hux gasped, voice dripping with false remorse. “Take that damp thing off and let’s see what can be done to remedy my transgressions.”

 

Stepping back, the witch chuckled with crinkled eyes and Ren noticed in a breathless moment that the other’s cheeks were pink again. Guilt flickered through his thoughts briefly to even consider doing anything with Hux after having fallen for the sweet Clan, but the fire was well to being stoked again and with it came heightened senses. Whereas the other witch reminded him of summer, this one was winter: cold, wet stone and the crackle of the air before a lightning strike. Hux’s skin was soft like a fresh pelt and his eyes as sharp as any icicle, his smile the flash of white roaring down the mountain to bury anything in its wake. Ren knew he could drown himself in Clan, but with Hux? He was certain he would be destroyed.

 

Standing to his full height, Ren released the witch’s wrist and smirked, tail swaying behind him as he took on a much more confident stance.

 

“You have quite a long list of those, witch, we might be here all night making amends.”

 

“A sacrifice I am willing to make. For the greater good of the wood, of course.”

 

 

* * *

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

If he let himself think about it too much longer, Ren had a feeling he would argue his way out of the situation, and part of him felt that he should. If he liked Clan so much, shouldn’t he feel much worse about where the conversation with Hux had turned? But there was a dark, dangerous spark in the witch’s eyes and the wildling surged forward and seized his lips in a crushing kiss, full of teeth and weeks of pent-up frustrations. If anyone could survive him right now, it was Hux. Lips and teeth were met and matched, the witch growling as he reached out again to grasp the towel, pleased to find no resistance this time when he yanked the damp cloth from Ren’s hips and flung it aside someplace to be collected later.

 

Reveling in the fierce reception to his unfriendly kiss, Ren snarled against the other man’s mouth and took hold of one his hips to drag Hux against his body, grinding his now painfully hard cock against the front of the witch’s shirt. It drew a lewd moan from Hux’s throat, muffled by the wildling’s mouth and their entangled tongues. Taking lead, Ren grabbed hold of the other hip and guided them both backward until he shoved Hux away from him and into the nest on the floor. Hux landed with a breathless sound, gazing up at the aroused wildling from the pile of cushions with a suddenly dry mouth at the sight of Ren’s impressive, dripping shaft. Before he could say anything, the wildling was over him again, claiming his mouth---which Hux suspected was specifically to keep him from talking---as impatient hands pulled at the ties of the witch’s shirt and the laces of his leggings. There would be time later to complain of the damage.

 

Ren nearly whined in agony as he struggled with Hux’s clothes, receiving no help as he heard the witch chuckling at his efforts. The rougher he was with the man, the stronger his scent seemed to become, a completely unique musk that left the wildling salivating. Spice, bark, pine, earth cracked by the cold of winter wind...it was a blessed balm to the blazing fire that had taken over Ren’s body. Practically ripping the leggings and undershorts from Hux’s legs, it was only when he had the man naked that Ren broke from his kiss to trail his mouth down the witch’s body, leaving bruising bites as he went that drew delightful sounds from the other man.

 

“Ren, what are you even--?” Hux began, but cut off when he forgot how to breathe as the wildling took hold of his legs and settled his knees over his furred shoulders.

 

It was such a compromising position, the witch briefly wondering exactly what he had gotten himself into before choking on sudden cry of pleasure as Ren leaned in to press his wet tongue against the ring of his ass. Hux arched his back and mentally chastised himself for his sensitivity, but it had been so so long since anyone else had touched him, there wasn’t much he could do about it. Earlier in the day, the witch might have railed against such an advance, but here Ren was: fragrant with soap and his wild hair tamed into a beautiful decoration of braids...he would have to thank Clan later for working a miracle on the wildling.

 

“F-fuck,” Hux swore shakily, his body giving a tremble under the assault of the other’s tongue.

 

He told himself he should be disgusted, that _Ren_ should be disgusted, but it was hard to form the thought when the actual sensations were so amazing. With a little effort, the wildling had managed to squeeze his tongue inside Hux completely, hands holding the other’s hips steady and against his mouth with a deeply pleased hum that reverberated nicely. The witch let a hand rise to cup the back of Ren’s neck, kneading at the skin as another groan escaped his lips under the spell of the wildling’s wicked tongue. Hux’s own cock lay hard against his belly, twitching with every moment the other man tortured him, breath a hitched panting through parted lips as his gaze fogged over.

 

“Get...out of there, already,” the witch murmured after surviving a few more minutes, trying---and failing---to keep the desperation from his voice.

 

There was a wet ‘pop’ as Ren did as he was asked, Hux staring after him and the trail of saliva that linked the wildling’s grinning lips back to what he’d been doing just a moment ago.

 

“Not backing down, are you?” Ren huffed, actually giving a snort of amusement when Hux bumped at his jaw with one of his knees.

 

“As nice as your filthy mouth feels, I’d rather have something a bit more filling inside me,” the witch growled.

 

Giving a shudder of excitement, Ren let Hux’s legs drop from his shoulders and took hold of his hips again, rolling the witch onto his belly and then lifted up until he had him on his knees and rose to practically lay himself over the other’s back. Yet when the wildling tried to get himself situated and give Hux what he wanted, the witch tensed up and reached back to shove him away.

 

“What’s wrong?” Ren asked, sitting in the pile of cushions with a confused expression that only deepened when he saw how red the witch had turned.

 

“I appreciate that you’re eager and all, but...hold on for half a second, would you?” the witch wheezed, heart racing in his chest at the near-miss. “Have you ever done this before?”

 

“Not...exactly, but I know how it works,” the wildling admitted, frowning with concern. “Did I do something wrong?”

 

“It isn’t a matter of ‘wrong’, Ren, but...well, your saliva isn’t gonna _quite_ cut it, especially since I’ve not had any practice recently.”

 

“I guess that makes sense, I didn’t notice you...um...getting wet on your own. You’re not a lifebringer, then?”

 

“That’s a respectful term, but you’re right, I’m not,” Hux confirmed, rolling onto his back again with a smirk. “I just require a bit more preparation. Would you like to watch?”

 

“What else would I do? Go downstairs to have a snack?” Ren snorted, but sat up with his legs crossed, looking down at the witch.

 

Rolling his eyes, Hux raised a hand lazily and snapped his fingers, a small glass vial popping into existence that fell into his waiting palm. Tugging the cork free, the witch poured a small amount of the clear liquid onto his middle and index finger, using his thumb to work some warmth into the slick substance that Ren realized had to be an oil of some kind. Holding his breath, the wildling found himself leaning forward in a trance as Hux closed his eyes and pressed his middle finger inside himself slowly. In and out, the witch worked at himself with his finger, a bit concerned to find the muscle resisting him, gritting his teeth with an annoyed hiss. Sensing the distress, Ren reached a hand out to gently stroke the tips of his fingers over one of the other’s soft thighs, reveling in the pleased sigh that came in response. It took a minute, but Hux was finally able to work in the second finger, aided slightly by the lingering saliva as he loosened himself up, much to the wildling’s great excitement as he listened to the other man moaning softly with each stroke.

 

“I wanna do that,” Ren admitted, voice a needy rasp.

 

“Not with those claws you aren’t,” Hux laughed breathlessly, finally pulling his fingers free. “I would have to have Clan clip them for you before you put them _anywhere_ near my insides.”

 

Ren pouted, but it was definitely something he would consider, wanting the power to undo the witch with just his fingers if he was so inclined.

 

Satisfied that he was as ready as he was going to be, Hux caught the wildling’s gaze with a needful look before rolling over onto his belly and pushed up on hands and knees, blush creeping all the way to his shoulders to assume such a position. But he didn’t have long to worry about it as Ren gladly settled over his back once again, the weight pressing down over him utter bliss as the wildling nudged the head of his cock against his slick ass. Shuddering with a deep groan, even the simple act of rubbing against him like this felt wonderful, Ren resting one hand beside his as the other moved to lay across the witch’s throat. Soon, the wildling’s patience reached its end and he nosed at Hux’s temple with a hitch in his breath as he finally pushed himself inside, shuddering as he could feel Hux’s moan beneath his fingers when he did. To his credit, the witch managed to keep himself up on his hands, despite shaking terribly with the overwhelming fullness of Ren pressing inside him.

 

“Are you okay?” the wildling asked, a tenderness in his voice that made Hux’s eyes sting, forcing him to close them.

 

“Y-yes...gods, _yes_ ,” the witch moaned out with a wet, breathless laugh. “You’re so big…”

 

Giving Hux a moment more to adjust, Ren began to draw his hips back, nearly pulling himself free before he firmly pushed them forward again, taking up a slow pace but each thrust put him back deep inside the witch. Given the cave-like alterations to the room, the wildling found himself twitching with a low growl as Hux’s moans echoed off the walls along with the wet sound of his cock pushing into him. The heat within was absolutely perfect, coaxing Ren into a faster pace as Hux began to relax for him, drawing him in even deeper. Panting harshly against the other’s neck, the wildling pressed his fingers into the curve of Hux’s throat and was pleasantly surprised to hear that the gesture earned him a needy whine.

 

“You feel...really good,” Ren murmured beside Hux’s ear. “And you seem to like it. Who would have thought the uptight bitch would let himself be fucked like this.”

 

Too lost to the pleasure, Hux couldn’t find any part of him able to deny the observation, breathing raggedly against the press of Ren’s fingers on his throat as he arched his back to buck himself back into the next thrust of the wildling’s hips.

 

“ _Harder_ ,” the witch begged loudly, drawing a pleased growl from Ren over him as he gladly obeyed, his smooth movements replaced by the harsh bucking of his hips, the sharp sounds of their bodies meeting echoing off the stone walls.

 

Each slam into Hux came with a moan, the wildling utterly drunk on the sound and the knowledge that it was because of him that the other man was making it. Feeling somewhat merciful, Ren moved his hand from the other’s throat to instead cup against Hux’s neglected cock, heart fluttering as the witch eagerly began to rut himself into his palm along with his thrusts into him.

 

“You’re so noisy, witch...a proper slut under all those pretty, gilded words,” the wildling sighed, giving a freckled shoulder a firm bite.

 

Tossing his head back, Hux cried out at the bite and shuddered, dripping unapologetically against the wildling’s fingers as he could feel himself begin to edge close to climax. But as his own muscles began to tense and tighten, there was a wonderful sensation within as Ren’s cock rammed into him more desperately. At first it was just a twitching, but soon enough the witch realized that the base of the wildling’s shaft was actually swelling into a knot inside him, putting a delightful pressure right against his prostate. Arms finally giving out, Hux let himself fall onto his chest with his hips still raised in the air, moans of pleasure turning to desperate sobs as the wildling rammed into him relentlessly.

 

Ren had to close his eyes against the intense ecstasy washing over his body, fingers curling into a fist around Hux’s cock---mindful of his claws, of course---and he stroked quickly in time with the buck of his hips. It didn’t take much more than that to send the witch over the edge, Ren shuddering with a pleased hum as Hux cried out loudly, cum spilling out through the wildling’s fingers into a sticky mess on the cushions. With the other’s muscles squeezing at him, Ren followed soon after, his knot keeping him locked inside the witch as he came hard, collapsing onto Hux afterward.

 

Gasping for breath between his sobbing, Hux lay in an exhausted, sticky, sweaty heap with the wildling curled against his back and his half-hard cock still throbbing faintly within him. It was an unexpected treat, certainly, and he could tell already that he was addicted.

 

 

* * *

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

“So...about those negotiations?” he managed to mutter.

 

“I think you’ve made a very, _very_ strong argument for your case,” Ren chuckled.

 

With a blissful smirk spread across his lips, Hux allowed himself to be drawn into the wildling’s arms and drifted off into the most restful sleep the witch had ever experienced in his life. Further talks could wait until the morning, as far as he was concerned: this had certainly been a step in the right direction. Ren would be inclined to agree, passing out shortly after the witch had, fingers tangled into ginger hair and the crisp bite of winter still fresh on his tongue.


	10. Avalanche

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following his unexpected tryst with one witch, Ren wakes in the night and goes to apologize to the other. In the morning, the trio gather for breakfast but soon find that it's just the calm before the storm...
> 
> Or, at least, the avalanche.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your patience, I know this chapter took a long while to get here! Life has been a rollercoaster for me lately, so I have struggled with sitting down to do much writing. But hopefully, now that things are settling back into place, chapters will come a bit more regularly.
> 
> Look for the amazing art by PangolinPirate at the end, too!

Finding himself again in the snow-choked forest that seemed only to exist in dreams, Ren walked along a path that wound through the thin, towering trees. Unlike many other times he been in this place, the wildling felt no need to run. No eyes watching him from hidden branches, no howling wind or screeching birds...in fact, it was quite calm. Despite the snow, he felt wrapped in warmth, pace almost sluggish as he made his way. There was a scent in the air he found pleasant, sniffing occasionally with a curious smile, wondering if he was heading toward the source. It was cinnamon thrown into a crackling fire, sun-warmed honey fresh from the comb, and ground ginger. Before he had time to dwell on what it could possibly be, a blur of gold bounding across the path caught his eye and drew his attention immediately. It was a large fox, its coat made of woven wheat rather than fur and the tip of its tail burned with a flame as if it were a candle’s wick. Ears perking, Ren opened his mouth to call out, to ask the fox to wait---as it felt appropriate to do so---but it turned its head to look through him with sapphire eyes just before disappearing into the trees and left him to awaken with a start.

 

At first, Ren went stiff with confusion when he came to and wasn’t alone. It took a long moment for memories to fill in the blanks that had left the wildling’s heart racing, heaving a sigh as he finally recognized the orange hair in the gloom and the warmth of the slender back tucked flush against his chest. Hux. Leaning down, he nosed gently at the patch of skin just behind the witch’s ear and greedily breathed in with a pleased grin. To say that things had escalated quickly would have been an understatement, but the end results had been... _exceptional_. But just as he reached a hand up to run through Hux’s hair, the wildling froze and frowned sharply as guilt washed through his thoughts. While he couldn’t complain about where he was at present---who could?---the evening had begun very differently, and he had told Clan that he would seek him out after he had finished his bath. Swearing softly under his breath, Ren slid away from the witch carefully, tucking one of the large furs around his smaller frame to keep him warm while he stole out of his room and into the hall.

 

What would he even say to excuse himself? Tail tucked against his side and ears wilted into his hair, even the touch of them against the witch’s intricate braids caused his heart to give a bruised thump. Wandering without knowing exactly where to find the other witch, it seemed that the house saw mercy on him and lead him to where he needed to be. Standing before a door painted with whorls of ivy and clovers, Ren hesitated for a long moment before finally reaching up to knock gently. At first there was only silence, the wildling very nearly turning away in defeat, but at last the door was drawn inward and a bleary-eyed Clan stood before him, his hair mussed by sleep.

 

“Oh, Ren, hullo,” he murmured with a soft smile, rubbing at one of his eyes. “Did you enjoy the rest of your bath?”

 

“I did,” Ren replied with a weak smile of his own. “I'm sorry it took so long for me to come back to you. I found myself a bit...distracted.”

 

A brow raised at the hesitance he heard in Ren's voice, Clan studying him closely and noting that the wildling seemed disproportionately guilt ridden for simply getting “distracted”. As the wildling shifted anxiously following his apology, the witch's gaze lingered for a moment on Ren's lips and how they seemed to be just a bit redder and slightly swollen. That had the other brow joining its twin at the implication.

 

“I see…” Clan hummed, leaning forward with a somewhat sly expression, head tilting to one side. “That's fair. My brother can be rather distracting...but I am glad you two were able to come to a civil arrangement. The tension _was_ getting a bit too thick.”

 

“Wha-- how did you..?” Ren blurted, face flushing red to be so easily called out.

 

“How could I tell, you mean?” the witch chuckled, eyes crinkling as he stepped back again. “You look like a child who got into the sweets before dinner. Plus that lovely shade of red you've just turned is pretty damning evidence along with those maimed lips of yours.”

 

Wilting despite Clan's apparent lack of vitriol, Ren crouched down to be at eye-level with him before reaching a hand out to gently touch the other’s cheek. The wildling’s heart fluttered with hope to feel the witch lean into his palm, soothed by the small reciprocation of his gesture.

 

“I should apologize, but...I don’t really know how to even begin,” Ren offered, thumb tracing over the curve of a cheekbone. “Is there any point in it if I do?”

 

“It never hurts to speak from your heart, dear wildling,” Clan assured him. “I am listening.”

 

“Hux told me the truth of the bargain we struck,” Ren began. “That in killing the Prince, his mantle was passed to me without my knowing. He told me you were the one who convinced him to propose a...union, rather than killing me for the crown he seeks.”

 

“It took a bit of arguing, but yes, he came around to my point of view.”

 

“I owe you my life, then, and have already done a poor job of repaying that debt.”

 

“How do you imagine that?” Clan scoffed.

 

“After all you have done for me, all the affection and kindness, and I betrayed you and mated your brother,” the wildling said quietly, nearly whining in his distress.

 

“Betrayal? By bedding your future husband? What a silly thought…”

 

Blinking, Ren stood back at his full height and stared at the witch with knit brows.

 

“You aren’t...upset. Shouldn’t you be?”

 

“Should I?” Clan teased, earning a faint snort of amusement from the wildling.

 

“I’m being serious, Clan. If you _are_ upset with me, I would deserve it. But I don’t really understand you _not_ wanting to chew me out at the very least.”

 

“Mmm, well, if I wasn’t half asleep, I might want to do a bit of chewing of another sort,” the witch replied with a smirk. “I’ve no need or desire to be cross with you, though.”

 

“Ah, but... _why_?” Ren muttered, cheeks warming a bit.

 

“My silly wildling,” Clan sighed with a sweet smile. “I’m the one who convinced my brother that marrying you was the best option. It would be a bit unreasonable to help him plan such a thing, then get upset with you when you two actually did something other than argue or try to kill one another. In fact, I’m happy! He’s needed a good dicking for some time now, honestly…”

 

Ren choked on his own saliva.

 

“W-what?!” he blurted as the witch laughed brightly.

 

“Calm down Ren, I was only teasing,” Clan assured him. “Mostly, anyway. Hux doesn’t exactly get out much, and when he does, finding a bedmate certainly hasn’t been his priority.”

 

‘What about you?” Ren asked curiously, trying to ignore the heat in his cheeks. “Do you have a... bedmate?”

 

“Oh, when the mood strikes, I’m known to go hunting for one,” the witch hummed with a chuckle. “None of them have been for more than one or two nights, though. I hadn’t really put much thought into anything permanent or exclusive, especially considering the growing tension in the wood and in the human kingdom. Even the fae have gotten a bit antsy. All of this is beside the point, though, isn’t it?”

 

“Is it?”

 

“You were concerned that I would get mad at you for sneaking off with my brother, so you came to apologize,” Clan continued with a soft smile. “While it wasn’t necessary, nor is there anything to forgive, I am happy that you thought of me and considered my feelings. If anything, I suppose I’m jealous of Hux for getting a turn with you before me, but I have gotten to play with you more than he has.”

 

“But where does that leave us? I still….like you,” Kylo admitted with a slight frown. “Should I try to pretend that I don’t?”

 

“You’re precious, Ren,” the witch giggled, leaning up on tip-toe to softly kiss the wildling’s pouty lips. “No one has a right to tell you to hide your feelings, and seeing as I’m quite fond of you as well...I see no reason to worry over the situation.”

 

“But...if I am to marry Hux, wouldn’t seeing you be forbidden?”

 

“Who said he even needs to know? He may have found you, but I’m the one who pursued you first,” Clan huffed, stepping back again. “I am fine with sharing your time and affection, but I won’t be pushed out, not even by my own brother.”

 

Blinking in a mixture of confusion and wonder, Ren was at least a touch relieved to know that he hadn’t ruined his budding bond with Clan. Smiling again with pink-dusted cheeks, the wildling dipped down as if to kiss the witch in turn, but gave a yip of surprise when a calloused hand rose to block him.

 

“Ah-ah, not tonight, Ren,” the other hummed with a sleepy, somewhat sly grin. “I’m exhausted after putting on that show for your pack today, I need my rest. And _you_ need to go back to my brother before he notices you’re missing.”

 

“Another time?” Ren asked hopefully, giving the witch’s palm a playful kiss.

 

“Oh yes, certainly, I demand it,” Clan laughed, pushing the other backward into the hall.  “Now go, let me get some sleep. I can rest easier knowing you’ll be sticking with us from now on.”

 

“I haven’t agreed to anything yet, though!” the wildling protested with a smirk, tail swaying behind him.

 

“Haven’t  you, though?” the witch hummed before giving a wink and shutting the door.

 

Lingering in the aftermath of his apology, Ren shook his head and turned to pad back down the hallway from whence he came. Every day he spent with the witches seemed to bring new surprises, but at least this was a pleasant one. Though, how were they expected to see each other without Hux catching on? It was true that he liked Clan first, but there was also something there between himself and the other witch….and if he married Hux, it wouldn’t be right to lie to him about it. Was omitting the truth even considered lying in the first place, though?

 

Grumbling to himself, Ren ran a hand over his braided hair and slumped his shoulders as he reached his open doorway, spotting the form curled beneath the furs. Approaching the nest that Hux had made for him, the wildling carefully crawled back into it, heart skipping a beat as the sleeping witch rolled over to tuck against his chest as if on instinct. Wrapping an arm over Hux to hold him close, the wildling closed his eyes and told himself that sleep would help ease his mind and the issue could be picked back up in the morning.

 

Thankfully, he slipped into a deep slumber this time, dreamless and warm.

 

Next he roused, Ren was well-rested and...alone? Sitting up from the warm furs with a slight pout, the wildling realized that Hux was not with him nor waiting elsewhere in the room. He carefully rubbed the sleep from his eyes and stretched himself out lazily, pleased to find his limbs were still quite loose from the previous night. It was honestly a feeling he could get used to. If Ren and Hux could learn to get along, the home within the willow cottage might turn out to be an ideal place to bring his pack, affording them a warm den and plentiful food. Not to mention the care that Clan had shown him in grooming. It would surely provide them the same boost in confidence and comfort as it had their leader to bathe in a hot spring and have their hair worked free of tangles.

 

Comfort didn’t have to mean weakness, the wildling finally concluded as he got himself up and padded to the door, tail swaying behind him as he grinned: it could be strength, an advantage. Striding confidently into the hall, Ren was immediately greeted by a wonderful scent, sniffing with perked ears and a growling stomach as he realized it was some sort of meat being cooked. Maybe Clan was up already as well, preparing a morning meal? Hopeful to see the long-haired witch and eat more of his cooking, the wildling wandered down the stairs to the main floor and made his way toward the kitchen. But as he rounded the corner, a greeting died on his tongue when he saw that it was actually Hux---who, as he had been told previously, was supposed to be _banned_ from cooking---pacing to and fro in the kitchen. Several tomes floated in his wake, flipped open to recipes and his face was smudged with flour, a pan on their stove hissing and popping with thin strips of pork while the witch gestured for a nearby bowl to stir itself.

 

“Ah, morning?” Ren ventured, finally remembering his voice as he stepped into the kitchen.

 

“Morn--ah!” the witch blurted, seeming to startle from his work, turning a charming shade of pink beneath his freckles. “I imagined you’d sleep a while longer, I was hoping to surprise you…”

 

“Well, I’m still pretty surprised,” the wildling chuckled, rubbing at the back of his neck a bit awkwardly. “I thought you didn’t cook.”

 

“I don’t have the patience for it, usually,” Hux admitted with a shrug. “But I figured if I woke up early enough, I could give it a try again.”

 

“I see...did you sleep, um, well?” Ren asked, perching himself at the table to watch the witch curiously.

 

Turning back to his work, it seemed to offer the witch some manner of comfort to keep busy while having the slightly odd conversation with the wildling. After all, they hadn’t spoken since falling asleep the night before after a particularly intense romp in the furs. Hux still couldn’t quite believe himself for having come onto Ren like he had, but there was just something about the wildling that was so enticing. Clan had seen it first, of course, though it seemed that their tastes were quite similar when it came to their partners.

 

“Mm, to be quite frank, I haven’t slept that well in years,” the witch hummed, checking one of the tomes before using a pair of copper tongs to begin flipping the strips of pork to crisp them on the other side. “Usually I only nod off for a few hours at a time before I’m up again.”

 

“Oh yes, he’s a notorious pacer,” Clan chimed from the entrance to the kitchen, looking pleased as could be when his brother shot him an embarrassed glare.

 

The long-haired witch chuckled, arms crossed over his bare chest. When he had risen from bed, he had actually intended to make breakfast himself, but it seemed his brother had beat him to it. Ren turned in his seat to peer at Clan curiously, head tilting a bit to one side as he did. The witch was wearing an earthen skirt today, the soft-looking fabric hanging low off his hips in an appealing way, gold embroidery that depicted falling leaves catching in the morning sun and shimmering. The wildling had a suspicion that if the brothers weren’t playing host to him, the long-haired witch would have chosen something a bit less fancy to wear fresh out of bed. It left Ren with a satisfied smirk: they were _both_ trying to show off for him. It was working.

 

“Can no one be counted on to sleep in the _one_ time I decide to do something nice as a surprise?” Hux grumbled, trying to look sour, but it came across more like the pout that it was.

 

“Not when you’ve got the house smelling so good,” his twin teased, slipping into the seat beside Ren. “But I gotta say, this _is_ a bit unlike you...something must have you in good spirits?”

 

Clan looked sideways at the wildling with a sly little grin, knowing full well what had happened; Ren turned red to his ears and wanted to hide under the table at this point. Was it too late to run back to the wilds?

 

“Just...trying to get us started on the right foot, that’s all, Clan,” Hux snorted, plucking the strips from the pan and placing them on a waiting plate. “If you have a problem with it, though, you’re welcome to skip breakfast.”

 

“Oh no no, I already had to skip my dessert, you aren’t costing me another meal,” the other witch huffed, the wildling beside him slumping in his chair with a groan.

 

“What was that?” Hux asked, looking over from mixing a few eggs in a bowl.

 

“Nothing, dear brother~ I’m looking forward to eating. I’m starved.”

 

Giggling to himself as his brother rolled his eyes and turned back to his cooking, Clan looked over at Ren with a charming, shit-eating grin that twisted the wildling’s stomach into knots. Despite himself, Ren very subtly curled his tail around the witch’s ankle, the fluffy end of it bapping lightly against the other’s leg. It seemed to please the long-haired man beside him, blue eyes bright and thankfully his pretty lips stopped teasing him for the time being.

 

“So, were we going to discuss the terms of our alliance after we eat?” Ren ventured after clearing his throat, blinking as the action seemed to summon a floating cup of tea to hover its way into his hands.

 

“No business at the table,” Hux warned, though it came with a chuckle. “But yes, if you’d like. I find conversation goes more smoothly on a full stomach. Is that agreeable with you, Clan?”

 

“How kind of you to include me in your diplomatic venture, my Prince,” gasped the long-haired witch, bursting into bright laughter as he received a soft bread roll upside his head for his trouble.

 

“Honestly, would it kill you to be serious for two seconds?”

 

“Possibly. Let’s not risk finding out. But yes, it is agreeable with me,” Clan replied, contentedly munching on the warm roll.

 

Falling into companionable silence, Ren sipped at the tea that Hux had provided him and kept his fingers wrapped around the warmth of the cup while his tail remained curled around Clan’s ankle, the long-haired witch watching his brother cooking with a polite level of anxiety. Nothing had caught fire, yet, but he wasn’t planning on letting his guard down. It was a peaceful morning, cozy in the kitchen with the stove putting out heat along with the nearby hearth, and the wildling felt as if he could have easily curled up for a nap if his stomach hadn’t given another loud growl. Soon afterward, Hux turned and began to bring the various dishes to the table for them to fill their plates from: a large bowl of fluffy, scrambled chicken eggs, the plate of crispy strips of pork, another plate stacked high with something Clan identified as ‘pan-cakes’, and a tray of peeled and cut fruits. Everything smelled amazing, and with a nod from the Prince, Ren began to pile things onto his plate eagerly. Clan followed suit and Hux waited until they had both settled down to begin fixing his own plate, looking quite pleased with himself. It was a relatively simple meal compared to those his brother was capable of, but he considered it quite a success.

 

“I should make you invite Ren over more often, it’s nice not having to fix breakfast for once,” Clan chuckled around a mouthful of the eggs. “You did a bang-up job, I’d say.”

 

“Don’t get used to it, you know I’m not a morning person,” Hux warned, wagging his fork at the other witch.

 

“Hmmm, most mornings, no, you aren’t. You must have woken up on the right side of the wildling today.”

 

Both Hux and Ren choked on their food at the same moment, the witch glaring through teary eyes at his brother while smacking at his chest to clear the offending lump in his throat.

 

“Oh come now, don’t try to deny it!” Clan cackled. “You both turned redder than summer’s first strawberry!”

 

“My bedding arrangements are none of your concern,” Hux managed to grumble once he’d caught his breath, his brother raising his hands in surrender.

 

Ren busied himself with his pan-cakes, ears perking upward as the first bite seemed to melt against his tongue, the cake soaked through with melted butter and maple sap. It had him rumbling a deep purr in his chest, the wildling practically shoveling the cake into his mouth with the fork he was still trying to get the hang of. Normally, he wouldn’t bother with utensils, but the cake was sticky and he imagined Hux wouldn’t approve of his meal being eaten messily. He had just begun to tuck into the crispy bits of pork---quickly becoming a new favorite---when there came a frantic banging of fists against the front door.

 

“Er, were you expecting company?” he asked, looking between the two witches.

 

“Well, actually, didn’t you say you wanted some of your pack to come find you?” Clan ventured, rising from his seat. “I’ll go and see.”

 

“Ah, no, that’s right,” Ren snorted, licking his lips of sap and grease before standing as well. “Stay. They’re my pack, let me handle them. They’re early, anyway…”

 

“As you wish,” the long-haired witch hummed, slipping back into his chair, but turned to watch the wildling wander off with a curious light in his eyes.

 

Warily approaching the door, Ren couldn’t help but to frown. The timing was terrible, of course, but he was more concerned with why they were practically beating it down. Sighing at his pack’s antics, the wildling unlatched the bolts and turned the knob. Before he even had the chance to get it completely open, however, Otter burst through the gap with Chameleon close on her heels.

 

“What in the gods are you two--?” Ren began, but was almost immediately cut off.

 

“Ren! The mountains! Snow!” Otter gasped, collapsing against the door while catching her breath.

 

“Yes, Otter, there _is_ snow on the mountains, that’s nothing---”

 

“Avalanche!” Cham added, doubled over and wheezing as well.

 

“There was an avalanche?” Ren asked, brows knitting. “Well, we haven’t seen one of those in quite some time, sure, but why did you run all the way here to--?”

 

“Something came down _with_ the avalanche!” Otter hissed.

 

“Some trees? Rocks?” Ren snorted, ears leaping upright in shock when she actually reached up and pulled him down by the shoulders to her eye-level.

 

“No, not j _ust_ trees and rocks, you assfu--!” she snapped, but drew up short and blinked a few times before leaning closer and gave a few sniffs to the fur on the other wildling’s chest.

 

“Stop that, Otter, and finish telling me what is going o--!” Ren growled, but again found himself silenced as the smaller wildling gave a loud, shriek of a laugh.

 

“You mated!” she blurted triumphantly, lips widening into a sharp grin.

 

“Oh? Hey, ‘bout time,” Cham offered with a nod, hands giving a light clap. “Was it the pretty one?”

 

“Wh---?! No?! That really doesn’t matter right now!” Ren hissed, turning red immediately.

 

“It was the _Prince_!” Otter squealed, leaning to one side to look past her leader and into the kitchen where the two witches now stood at the table with confused expressions.

 

“OTTER!” the flustered wildling practically roared, yanking her hands free of his shoulders to glower at her. “What. Came. Down. With. The. Avalanche?!”

 

Backing away with her hands raised in surrender, the smaller wildling seemed to remember that they actually had a very serious reason to have come to fetch Ren, glancing to Cham with a frown before addressing Ren again.

 

“Well, we’re not really sure _exactly_ ,” Otter began, shifting anxiously under the heated stare of her leader. “It was hard to see, but there were creatures in the avalanche, running with the snow.”

 

“Hard to see,” Cham agreed. “Shimmered like the air does in summer, false puddles on the horizon.”

 

“Something shimmery in the snow? Are you sure you two haven’t been getting into another stash of human wine?” Ren scoffed, anger fading into annoyance at this point. “Why are you so concerned?”

 

“Because the avalanche didn’t stop when it reached the bottom of the mountains,” Otter huffed. “It kept going, diving into the wood and moving in one direction.”

 

“Which was?”

 

“This one,” Cham concluded, gesturing over his shoulder with a thumb. “Only just got here ahead, realized where it was going, came to warn you.”

 

“Is it doing damage?” Ren asked, brows lifting with an alarmed expression. “Should we move to a safer level of the cottage?”

 

“Well, no, that’s the thing,” Otter went on, glancing anxiously toward the door. “The shimmery snow moves _around_ the trees, like it’s thinking and avoiding them.”

 

“How far behind you was it?”

 

“Few minutes, here soon,” Cham stated, placing a hand on Otter’s shoulder. “May just pass, not sure.”

 

“What’s going to be here soon?”

 

Ren looked to his side, spotting Hux as he had just approached along with Clan, both witches having only heard bits and pieces of the conversation taking place by the front door.

 

“An avalanche of shimmery, thoughtful snow?” Ren replied, frowning deeply. “Does that make any sense to either of you? Apparently it’s heading this way.”

 

Exchanging a look, the witches broke into sly grins that filled the wildling with an uneasiness: nothing good ever came from that expression in his recent experience. Frowning as they moved past him to the door, Clan undid the locks---as they had slipped back in place while Ren had been arguing with his packmates---and Hux was the first one to step out onto the porch just as a low rumbled began just beyond the treeline.

 

“Um, shouldn’t we stay inside? Where it’s safe?” Otter ventured, peering out after the short-haired witch with a perplexed tilt of her head.

 

“If we did that, nothing would ever get done, would it?” Clan chuckled and followed after his brother. “Come, I promise it’s safe. It’s actually something we’ve been waiting for.”

 

“Autumn was unseasonably short, we weren’t expecting them to be able to migrate so soon,” Hux added, making room as the three wildlings joined them on the deck, though he noted they stayed close to the doorway just in case.

 

“Them? Who are they?” Ren asked, squinting toward the trees as his skin broke into gooseflesh, the low rumble in the earth putting him on edge.

 

“Wait and see,” their Prince laughed, eyes sharp and wild with an eagerness the wildling could only be wary of---and, perhaps, somewhat envious of whatever it was causing it.

 

Moments later, the avalanche burst through the trees and into the witches’ clearing, a wave of shimmering snow pouring out around the trunks without doing them any harm. It rushed toward the willow, but as if by magic---and it had to have been, Ren concluded with a lump in his throat, hair standing on end now with his packmates ducking low behind him---came up short. Clouds of icy fog surrounded the house, remaining some distance away and obscuring the forest from view on all sides. The wildling could tell that there was something in the fog, feeling eyes upon them but he couldn’t see or smell anything...it managed to tip him into such a level of unease that he stepped in front of both witches, prepared to fight.

 

“Ren, easy,” Clan hummed, resting a hand on his shoulder. “I promise that it’s alright.”

 

“It doesn’t feel alright to me,” he growled, tail lashing behind him.

 

“Well, to be fair, if it weren’t for us, you would have reason to be afraid,” Hux confessed, looking to Ren with a wink before descending the stairs and striding out toward the wall of shimmering fog.

 

“Hux!” Ren hissed, tempted to go after him, but found himself stilled by a squeeze the other witch gave to his shoulder.

 

“Watch,” Clan urged, and it was only his confidence and calm demeanor that kept the wildling in place, eyes scanning over the fog in a vain attempt to spot what lay within.

 

When Hux reached the fog, he reached out a hand and lay it on something decidedly solid, fingers caressing over the surface of a shimmering chunk of...ice? Ren squinted, leaning forward some as he tried to get a better look, Chameleon and Otter peeking over his shoulder and around his hip to do the same. Suddenly, the wall of fog wavered and fell to the ground, joining the snow that had already fallen and revealed exactly what the avalanche had brought.

 

“Oh…” Ren managed to gasp, eyes going wide, wincing as Otter dug her claws into his hip with an alarmed squeak.

 

Beneath Hux’s hand lay the armored snout of a dragon, easily twice the size of a draft horse and clad in plates of metal that reflected the sun almost blindingly from its polished surface. Around its neck was a golden braid that held a magnificently carved chunk of amber in the shape of the sun, reminding the wildling immediately of the band around Driscol’s neck. Beyond this dragon were at least twenty others, slightly smaller and not so elaborately armored, but no less intimidating in their presence. They had thin limbs and lean muscle, bodies built for agility rather than brute force, the horns atop their heads curved like a ram’s and their grey scales matched perfectly with the mountain’s stone spires. They lacked wings, but they surely had been lost when they had adapted to living in the mountains. The largest dragon that stood before the witch had piercing blue eyes that lifted up from Hux to regard the gathering on the deck, nodding toward Clan for a moment before staring down Ren sharply. It chilled him to the core.

 

“ _Dragons_?!” Otter hissed in disbelief. “No wonder we were told never ever to scale the mountains!”

 

“Friends?” Chameleon asked Clan hopefully, sinking down behind his leader a bit as the dragon continued to look their way.

 

“Hail!” the dragon greeted, the voice unexpected but feminine to a degree. “Who is there with you, young fox?”

 

“I am Ren, leader of the Wild Hunt!” the wildling called back, tone challenging.

 

“Well met, Wildling!” the dragon laughed, her teeth bared in a needle-toothed grin. “I am Imperator Phasma of the Avaler! I look forward to fighting beside the Hunt!”

 

“Fighting? _What_ fighting?” Ren muttered, his gaze turning to Clan beside him.

 

“Against the humans, of course,” Clan hummed, his usually soft smile turning a bit feral. “When we move to seize their kingdom in the spring.”

 

“It never ends with you two, does it?” the wildling practically whined, the witch laughing brightly in response.

 

“I want to ride one of them into battle,” Otter whispered, awe seeming to have replaced her fear already.

 

 

It was going to be a long, long, _long_ winter, Ren could already tell.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for reading and a very special thanks to PangolinPirate for the wonderful piece in this chapter!


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